


Warmth

by ZhiLu



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Dark, Felix Changbin Minho and Bang Chan are sharing an apartment, Friendship is close to as important as love in this fanfiction, Homelessness, Jisung and Bang Chan's bro time, Jisung is a precious baby who hasn't experienced a lot of good things in his life, M/M, Major Character Death Tag is not an idol!, Mentions of Prostitution and Dub-Con, Quite a lot of it, attempt at showing homelessness realistically, come in and enjoy the ride, you know it's a slow burn when the other party doesn't show up until like 10k in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2019-08-08 03:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16421399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZhiLu/pseuds/ZhiLu
Summary: Under any other cirumstances, Jisung would not have done it. He swears on his life.But he was just so damn hungry.(AU in which Jisung is a homeless kid who tries to steal some rich foreign guy's wallet and is found out - fate works in mysterious ways)





	1. Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> So, I guess this is happening.
> 
> Started this at exactly 12 am after I had this spontaneous idea
> 
> Pls just bear with me
> 
> (why am I so nervous tf)

Under any other circumstances, Jisung would not have done it. He swears on his life.

But he was just so damn hungry.

He had watched the guy from afar for quite some time. He seemed to be a foreigner, speaking frantic English which Jisung could not understand into his phone and Jisung found himself victim to the stereotypes. He’s probably rich, judging from the way he had dyed his hair blond at the tips and the fancy, branded clothing he was wearing.  
It would not hurt him a bit, Jisung thinks, trying hard to reassure himself of his task. That guy does not have to go to bed hungry.

But still, somewhere in the back of his mind, the good boy he once was is fighting to come to the surface. Jisung sees his mother standing next to him in the grocery store, watching a girl barely in puberty being scolded and pushed around by the shop owner. He remembers the greasy shine of her hair, the barely fitting, way too light clothes and the way the owner’s hands circled her skinny wrist so easily.  
Jisung had probably been about six years old, clinging to the coat of his mother. He remembers feeling sad, assuming, even though he could not have known what really was going on, that she had needed that piece of bread and the bananas. The little boy had raised his tiny fist to tug at his mother’s cloth, trying to gain her attention so that they could help the girl together when he saw her face.

Mrs Han’s face was pulled into an ugly sneer.  
He couldn’t make sense of the situation but he could clearly recall the horror he felt when seeing his a bit strict but otherwise gentle mother with a facial expression like this.  
The woman began noticing her son’s stare and finally turned to him.  
“Watch, Jisung. That’s what happens to children that disobey their parents. This is what happens to children who lie and steal.”  
A loud shriek had caught their attention, making them both turn their heads in the direction of the entrance of the shop.  
The owner had dragged the young girl to the door by her hair and had thrown her out.  
“You should be grateful that I didn’t call the police, you brat. You think you dirty street kids can take away my hard-earned money? Go back to where you came from, good-for-nothing-bitch.”

Jisung had flinched at the foul language, being quite the sensitive child at heart, and finally tugged at his mother’s coat. “Eomma!”, he had whined in a low tone.  
His mother turned to him, a neutral expression on her face.  
“Why are we not doing anything, eomma? That noona looked sick.”

The woman’s face turned into a scowl and Jisung remembers cowering and sinking his head.  
“Listen here, Han Jisung”, she made her son look at her with a sharp tug on his hand.  
“Kids like this do not live up to God’s expectations. They chose a path of sin and strayed far from God the moment they left the care of their well-meaning relatives. When you’re old enough, you’ll finally understand.”

 

Today, Jisung was finally old enough and he did understand now. But not what his mother wanted him to know.

He understood his mother was a cold-hearted, manipulative bitch.

So with a supporting growl of his stomach, Jisung stepped out into the busy main street, mixing in with the crowds quite easily. The foreigner was still standing next to a small coffee shop, still busy having a heated conversation on the phone. With a few quick movements, Jisung had managed to get close enough to the shop windows, using the relative void of people walking on the side of the street rather than in the middle of it that his ’target‘ was also occupying to get closer.  
Today was some kind of festival in the heart of the city, Jisung remembers seeing some wildly coloured posters but couldn’t think of a reason to celebrate, but he knew this was a good chance to do this - drunk people were significantly easier to rob and a lot of people were wearing backpacks or larger bags to transport their bought goods.

Foreigner was also wearing a backpack. Jisung felt a small smile creep onto his face. Maybe today was his lucky day - he could need one.

He slipped out the small knife he usually used to fend for himself - never to threaten people, Jisung always made sure to remember that when feeling bad about having such a dangerous weapon - out of the pocket of his washed up jeans and hid it in his left sleeve.  
Now he only had to get close enough and casually cut the bottom of the dark green backpack, let the wallet fall out, catch it and get out of there fast. He had watched the foreigner put the black leather wallet in the big pocket of his bag after buying himself a cup of coffee.  
So basically, it was a fool proof plan. At least in theory.

When Jisung was finally close enough, he slipped the sharp knife through the soft fabric of the backpack - lucky for him, not much more than the dark wallet fell out and into his hand.  
He waited for a quick heartbeat with bated breath but the foreigner just kept on rambling in that strange language.

Jisung could not believe his luck.  
If only it had lasted longer.

Because suddenly, there was a man behind Jisung - he probably had not seen the robbery but he accidentally bumped into Jisung, making him fall directly onto the foreigner.

“Woah!”, the foreign guy turned around and they both stumbled for a short moment before foreign guy grabbed onto Jisung’s forearms, phone falling to the ground disregarded - either to steady himself or the other, Jisung did not have brain capacity left to think about it. All his brain was doing was screaming ‘Run! Run, you fool!’. He tried to rip his tired arms out of the stranger’s grasp but he could not do it in time.

“Wait, dude… Is that my wallet?”  
Jisung was sweating bullets at this point, avoiding looking into the foreign guy’s face. His eyes were racing from side to side, trying to find a way out of this situation, his tongue heavy in his mouth. Well, he couldn’t have sweet-talked his way out anyway, the case was pretty obvious: Jisung was royally fucked.

In a spur of the moment adrenalin-kinda thing, he finally managed to rip his arms out of foreigner’s hands and didn’t waste a millisecond before running as fast as his feet would carry him, diving into the crowd.

He only heard a distanced shouted ‘Hey, wait!’ But of course, he was not going to. As fast as he could make his way through the wave of people, he managed to gain a good distance to his victim. When he saw a small alleyway not too far from him, he didn’t waste any time and turned away from the busy street. The alleyway was completely void of people so nobody was giving him strange looks for his panicked running.

Again, he could not celebrate his victory for a long time. 

Even though he needed to go on, keep his momentum going, the adrenaline in his veins pushing him on, Jisung had to stop.  
His head was spinning so hard he could barely hold himself on his two feet, having to rely heavily on the brick wall next to him. A not-so-quick look-around showed him that the alleyway was quite dark - and dirty - so people would not notice him right away from the bigger road.  
Suddenly, his shaking and weak legs gave out - he outright collapsed on the floor, clutching the wallet like a life-line to his chest. Jisung turned his head to look at it.

He saw his cut, calloused hands holding onto the elegant looking leather with all their might and shaking in the effort.

Jisung felt like crying. God, why was this happening to him?

He was so hungry, damn it.

A hand was put on his shoulder.

Jisung shrieked, flinching violently and trying to stumble onto his weak legs, but his efforts were in vain.

Why was this happening to him again? Now tears really began to well up in his eyes.  
“Shit, sorry. Hey, calm down…” The hand had been retracted but the person did not leave. The soothing voice stirred something in Jisung but it took his dizzy head a moment to realize why. The accent. It was a slightly accented voice - the foreigner he just stole from. In the dark alleyway, alone with him.

Well, guess that’s it. He was going to die today.  
The tears spilled over and he let out a loud sob, his whole body shaking. He was so tired, so so tired. If that’s how it ends, that’s how it ends.

“Ah, fuck- Sorry. Please don’t cry. Oh man.” Foreigner slowly moved to sit next to him, Jisung had heard the ruffling of clothes before something was laid over his shoulders, presumably a coat, and he did not even have it in him anymore to flinch at the touch.  
A slight pause, the silence only being disturbed by Jisung’s loud sobs.  
He had heard the slight panic in the man’s voice, had heard the way he was trying to calm him down - but he could not believe him, his experiences keeping him cautious and anxious, even though logic was screaming at him that this was not normal behaviour for a man out for one’s blood.

“Look, mate, I can help you. Honestly, I’m not mad. Let’s talk this out, shall we?”  
When Jisung finally turned around to look at the stranger’s face, he could not hold it in anymore.  
The stranger sounded so nice, so caring like he really gave a damn about the dirty little pickpocket lying collapsed against a dirty brick wall. The look on his face was of pure concern, his eyes filled with desperation.

All dams broke loose.

“I’m so sorry! Please… Please just forgive me! You-You can have your wallet back, I swear I-I really haven’t taken any money. I’m just so-“, Jisung shakily pulled his hands up to his face to press their heels on top of his eyes, feeling the coat slip off his shoulder. “H-H-Hungry”, he ended his sentence so softly that he wasn’t entirely sure Foreigner had heard him.  
He faintly felt the stranger pull the coat back over his shoulders. There was a long pause and Jisung felt the familiar anxiety creeps its way through his veins again. He was done for. That stranger would laugh in his face and beat him up. Good-for-nothing-bitch.

“What is your name?”  
Jisung was surprised by the question, not entirely sure what this stranger was trying to do right now. The safest option seemed to be staying silent.  
When Jisung did not answer, Foreigner sighed and just continued talking.“My name is Bang Chan. I am 20 years old and I live here in Seoul, a bit away from the heart of the city, with some of my friends. I would like to get to know you better, maybe I could take you out for a meal?”

Jisung was stunned. He let his hands slowly sink to scan the stranger’s face. He could not be serious.

But when he looked again and again, there was nothing but honesty and open curiosity in foreigner’s face and eyes - and Jisung was very good at reading people.  
The offer sounded way too good to be true. And, quite a lot like charity. Jisung did not want Bang Chan’s pity. But, well, he did not say he wanted to help him - he said he wanted to get to know him. So it was not like charity, but more like an invitation to become friends…? He could accept that, he could accept making friends.

Of course, he knew it was only charity in the end. But being way too weak from hunger to even get up makes it easy to ignore the nagging voices in your head.

“Ji-Jisung. Han Jisung”, he stumbled a bit over the syllables, clearing his throat before continuing, “Uhm, 18 years old. Nice to meet you. I would very much like to… talk to you… over some dinner.”

The other boy seemed satisfied with his answer, a big smile splitting out on his face. “That’s wonderful, Jisung-ah. Is it okay if I help you up?”

Jisung could not help but feel a bit of a giddy feeling rise up through the pain at being treated with such respect. He hesitated for a short moment but gave a small nod.

Shortly after, he felt a hand firmly lodge under his right arm, then his left arm was swung over broad shoulders, the coat almost magically staying firmly on his own shoulders.  
When Bang Chan moved upwards, he was taking on almost all of Jisung’s weight - he really did try to help him but his legs felt like jelly and not really supportive right now, so all Jisung could do was feel bad about himself while relying completely on a stranger’s help.

Fortunately, they were both at about the same height, Jisung only a few centimeters shorter than the other, so the way Bang Chan was supporting him was not too awkward. 

“Come on, let’s go find a place to have a chat.”

Jisung turned his head to Foreigner. There was that big smile again - and Jisung couldn’t help but try for a small smile. He did not know how convincing it was, but it was an attempt.

Then, Bang Chan started taking some steps forward, half-pulling Jisung with him.  
They made their way out of the dark alley, slowly, but surely.


	2. Hyung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Bang Chan, empathy is one of the most important human emotions - unfortunately not everyone shares that opinion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jisung gets dragged around a lot, Bang Chan is a smiley soft mess and people are dicks

The situation in itself was so damn embarrassing.

Bang Chan had kept on dragging him close to shop windows full of happy families and bright, expensive items. Of course Jisung had noticed the stares and whispers - they weren’t exactly subtle. And he couldn’t even be annoyed at them, he knew exactly what kind of weird pair the two were making.  
He even tried to rip out of his supporter’s grip once, quietly insisting that he’s “just fine” and that “it was only difficult at the beginning, now he was fine”. If Bang Chan just did not hear him and did not notice his weak attempt or if he decided to pointedly ignore it, Jisung didn’t know. 

Chan kept on talking throughout the whole time, making it calculatedly obvious that he did not care about other people’s opinions and Jisung felt himself care less and less with every exhausting step forward.

He didn’t really listen to what Chan was rambling about, only picking up some parts of sentences and the tone of his voice, using it as a distraction from everything else but not being quite lucid enough to really be attentive.

When Bang Chan suddenly stopped and turned them towards one of the shops. “This should do the job”, he declared. Jisung only had a millisecond to properly look at the windows and felt a bit of panic rise up inside of him. He opened his mouth to warn Chan but it was already too late, he had dragged him into the warmth of the building.

The inside of the house was honestly quite nice but scarily familiar. Full of pastel colours, little cute decorative gimmicks, a display of various baked goods in all forms and figures and a big menu displaying the names of all the warm dishes you could order. It was quite a big shop and very busy during this time of the day and year, people streaming in from the street during the late autumn dawn to warm themselves up and meet for a cup of coffee or an early dinner. 

Warming up. It really had gotten cold outside - Jisung had stopped complaining about the way his fingers and skin sometimes turned blue during these nights, had stopped thinking about how light his clothing was. The pain of the icy winds and the nibbling of the cold on his skin were only a dull pain in the back of his mind now, pushed there so he could deal with more urgent, maybe changeable problems. But right now Jisung felt quite clearly how cold he really must have been because he couldn’t surpass a slight hiss as the feeling slowly crawled back into his feet and hands.

Bang Chan carefully sat him down on a free clean white chair next to a clean white table and Jisung barely suppressed cringing, knowing how dirty he’d leave it. 

“There you go. Now tell me what I can get you, you have a lot of options!”, Bang Chan gave him a blinding smile again, gesturing to the giant menu board behind himself.

“I uhm...”, Jisung did not really know how he was supposed to say this. He felt really, really uncomfortable here, memories surfacing constantly, but Bang Chan looked so pleased and positive, he did not want to curb this enthusiasm.

“I think it isn’t good if we... We should...”, apparently his voice was even smaller than he felt because Chan leaned forward.  
“Could you repeat that please, sunshine?”  
Jisung almost laughed at the nickname when his throat closed up. 

A person had come up behind them, obviously a manager of the shop judging by the way he carried himself and his clean and elegant working uniform - and well, Jisung’s memory. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

“Excuse me, Sir.” Bang Chan turned around and Jisung could read in the way he was posturing himself that he knew who was standing before him.

“This”, Mr Manager’s face turned from his fake customer service smile into a deep scowl when looking down at Jisung, “person is not allowed in here.” 

Jisung couldn’t help looking away, sinking his gaze to his feet. It smelled delicious in here and he was so hungry and tired and sad and humiliated and he just wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear. 

“Why?”, Chan’s voice was confident, showing not the least bit of intimidation but also not showing any real confusion, either. Of course he knew why they were going to be thrown out. 

“We’ve had a run in with him once before. He tried to steal some food, got caught, taken out of the shop and was instructed not to come back.”

Bang Chan was silent for a moment, giving the manager enough time to assess his entire attire. He put on his best customer service voice again.  
“But you, kind sir, are obviously very welcome to stay here. Honestly, this might seem harsh but we have to punish thieves, don’t you think?”

Chan didn’t answer again. Jisung began shaking again despite the comfortable temperature. Now it was over. Bang Chan was going to see him as just a thief, a leech, good for nothing but the daily fight to survive. He was going to be thrown out again and Chan was going to sit here and enjoy his warm, belly-filling meal. Jisung felt crushed. He should have known not to have such high hopes. Life was fucking unfair.

Suddenly Chan turned around and Jisung could catch the change in his facial expression while he was turning, from an obvious fake smile to a real one.

“Come on, we’re leaving. I don’t want to be served by scum without basic human emotions like empathy.”

Jisung couldn’t help but grin slightly back at Chan, making his way up into the elder’s open arms with the help of the table and the helping hand outstretched to him.  
Chan quickly began dragging him out of the shop again without as much as a second glance at Mr Manager. Jisung decided to look back, if only for a millisecond, to enjoy the look of shock on the jerk’s face. He decided not to look back at the table though - even if he left it dirty, whatever. It would fit the people in there much more than a clean one.

“Sorry about that Jisungie. I guess that’s what you wanted to tell me...?”, Chan gave him a sheepish smile. Jisung only nodded slightly.

He was still a bit stunned by the scene that just took place. Never would he have thought that Chan would actually take his side.

“Th-Thank you, Bang Chan-sshi. For the attempt and for standing by my side.”

He felt Chan rub his shoulder comfortingly. “That was nothing, don’t worry about it. I really meant what I said in there. Oh, and please don’t use that honorific on me - just call me hyung.”

Somehow this made Jisung smile. An older brother. What a nice thought.

“Okay, hyung.”

Chan cooed at the younger’s honest smile.

They stood there for a few seconds and Jisung’s mind began to race again already. The smile slipped off his face. He should probably go now, shouldn’t he? Chan had made an attempt of feeding him but it didn’t work out and he should not get his hopes up for a second chance. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He did not want to be alone again, didn’t want to try to pickpocket someone else. He wasn’t even sure if he would manage to succeed - he definitely couldn’t run anymore. Also he enjoyed Chan’s company. He was acting like a proper hyung, taking care of him so well and actually talking to him.

“Aww, no, don’t stop smiling! Come on, let’s get some food into that body.”  
Chan started to drag him again. 

And suddenly Jisung really was smiling again. He did not want to get his expectations up again but maybe he really did not have to fend for himself today - maybe his hyung could do that for him today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments and the kudos last chapter!!  
> I was literally squealing with joy. Wouldn’t have imagined that amount of feedback in my wildest dreams lol  
> This one is like 1k shorter than the first one and I’m so sorry!! But I was so grateful that I wanted to give you an update right away.  
> Aaaand I’m even working on the next one right now! I’m so soft for Jisungie and Channie you guys don’t even know  
> Hope I didn’t disappoint you too much lol


	3. Instinct and Impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of houses were abandoned, just silently waiting for their demolition. 
> 
> Jisung found himself wondering sometimes how many people could relate to that as much as he could.

Jisung felt like he had never experienced this amount of joy in his life before. 

The first bite into the big, warm kebab felt like heaven and paradise joined together on the day his birthday fell on Christmas. Times ten.

He heard Chan laugh as his eyes closed in pure bliss. They were sitting on a bench each, opposite of each other, eating the kebabs Chan had bought for them at a small shop nearby while Jisung had waited outside. 

They ate in silence for a few minutes. They had walked a bit longer through some calmer side roads so no-one except them was there, the quiet atmosphere only disturbed by their constant chewing. Until Chan decided to speak up.

“Hey, Jisungie...”

Jisung lifted his head slightly and hummed to show he was listening, all while still not stopping devouring his kebab.

“Ya, slow down or you’ll get sick!”

He barely suppressed an eye-roll. To him, it felt more like he was going to be sick if he stopped eating for just a second. You learn some things on the streets - one of the most important lessons is ‘don’t take anything for granted, things can disappear in just a second’. Even though it seemed to be an irrational fear, Jisung really did not think Chan would rip it out of his hands after all the hassle he went through to buy him something to eat, but better safe than sorry.

“Whatever, just ignore me then”, Bang Chan dramatically clutched his chest with his free hand and Jisung let out a small chuckle. How much better the world felt with something warm in one’s belly.

“Look, um... When I said I wanted to get to know you better I really meant that.” 

Jisung stopped chewing, staring into his hyung’s face with wide eyes. Panic began rising up inside of him and turning his blood cold. Telling someone you’ve only just met personal things about yourself seemed like a very bad idea, no matter how nice Chan had been to him this past hour.

“I- Sorry, Jisungie. Maybe I was a bit too early on that... I should not insist, I’m really sorry”, the apparent honesty in Chang’s voice made the boy look up into his eyes. Damn, that look in his eyes was so genuine and apologetic. Jisung could not help it - he was really starting to trust this Bang Chan, despite his instincts screaming at him to keep the other at an arm’s length. 

Either he was a really really good actor - or he was honestly interested in him and wanted to help him.

“It’s okay...”, Jisung mumbled, barely loud enough for Chan to hear.

He observed the way the older’s posture changed. From his defeated, disappointed a bit slumped position to sitting up straight, slightly leaned forward, eyes open wide like a child sitting in front of chocolate. 

“I guess...”, Jisung began slowly, halting for a second. “I guess you can ask me some questions. But only if I can do the same!”  
It wasn’t a bad idea, getting to know the person that you’re spending time with. Also Jisung kind of owed his hyung one, he thought as he looked down on his almost finished kebab.

“That’s perfectly okay”, Bang Chan said with a gentle smile, “You can start, let’s go.”

The younger thought about his question for a few second, chewing on the last bite of his food. “What’s your favourite colour?”  
Chan gave a short but loud laugh. “Good question, hm... I’d say blue? No special reason though. What about you?”

Jisung was slightly taken aback by the normal question but he answered without a second thought: “Red.”  
“Did not need much thought, eh?”  
“I’ve had a lot of time to think”, he shrugged and buried his hands casually into the front pocket of his hoodie.

“How much time?”, Chan asked, his face carefully neutral as if he was asking him about the weather. Jisung knew exactly what he meant.

“About 2 years.”

Bang Chan whistled lowly, busying himself with the hem of his thick sweater.

Jisung did not look back up into his face, watching the other’s hands instead.  
“What do you like to do for fun?”

“Hmm, I’m pretty busy with university, so I don’t really do much. But I do like me some bowling and occasionally I make music”, Jisung could basically hear his hyung’s voice dripping with passion. He was impressed.

“Making music? Like composing? Or just playing it?”

“Both, actually. I mean”, Chan laughed again, “I even have a Soundcloud.”

Jisung looked into the other’s face, confusion twisting his features.  
“What’s that?”

If Chan was surprised Jisung did not know the word he didn’t show it. “Oh, just a music platform which allows young artists to upload their work. It’s quite nice, I’ll show it to you someday.”

Jisung nodded to make it clear he understood. “Please do, I’d love to hear some of your music. I’m sure it’s great!”, he gave the elder a small smile who in turn cooed at him.

“What about you? Sorry, I’m uncreative.”

The smile fell of Jisung’s face. “Do I look like I do much for fun?”  
The phrase had slipped out without much thought but suddenly the younger was quite aware of his attire. He straightened up, getting out of the lazy slouch he had been in. He looked down at his scratched up hands, the dark sweatshirt that probably was once a bright green, his washed up, cut and dirty jeans as well as his dark, no brand sneakers that were falling apart at the seams. The only expensive or at least clean thing he was wearing was Chan’s dark brown coat.

Compared to his hyung’s elegant combination of greys and whites, looking comfortable but still chic, Jisung really felt out of place. He let his eyes wander further up - the clean skin (Chan was probably wearing make-up or something but still), the friendly eyes free of bags and his calculatedly disheveled dark hair with dyed blonde tips, they made Chan look like some kind of young model. Trendy, but still elegant.

Jisung hadn’t consciously looked into a mirror for at least two months. If he was really honest with himself, he’d know he did it intentionally. His skin was dry and broken at a lot of places because of the cold and if his face looked as bad as he thought of quick glances in puddles, Jisung really should have a long rest soon. He knew his black hair was greasy and some strands were all over the place while most of it was held together in a small bun on top of the back of his head. It’s been some time since he cut it last - it’s probably a bit longer than his face now but Jisung doesn’t pay much attention to it, having it hidden under a beanie most of the time, a beanie he forgot in the house today.

Instantly he felt quite self-conscious. God damn it.

Bang Chan looked shocked at the solemn answer. “Uhm... No, I guess. So sorry, that was stupid of me.”

“Hey, no, I’m the one who should be sorry. I can be quite the downer”, Jisung tried his best at a charming smile but he really didn’t think he’d succeeded.”I guess I like listening to music. And drawing. And watching people, like in general...?”

Bang Chan gave him a grateful smile. “That sounds nice. It’s your turn now.”

“I noticed you had a small accent when we first met. Where are you from?”

“I was born in Sydney, Australia. Have you ever been there?”

“No. ‘Haven’t really been out of Korea at all, to be honest”, Jisung was not really bothered by that but looking at Chan, he slowly started to wonder what Australia was like - was everyone as nice as his newly found hyung?

“Ah, that’s okay. I haven’t been to many other countries as well.”

“What brings you to Seoul then?”, Jisung found himself curious.

“Well, since my roots are Korean and I already spoke the language I decided to study in Seoul - and I can’t bring myself to regret it, even though I’m homesick often. My best friend chose to come with me though, that makes it better. We’ve been here for half a year now.”

Jisung listened attentively, making soft noises to show his interest throughout Chan’s explanation.  
“That does sound nice. Your Korean is very good, by the way! Are you living together with that friend?”

“Yes, with him and two other friends of mine.”

Jisung nodded approvingly and mumbled another “that sounds nice”.

“Where do you live?”  
Jisung had known the question was coming. Of course, he did - but he had managed to ignore it in the calm, casual atmosphere they had created with their small talk.

“You already know the answer to that one”, Jisung mumbled, cold hands fidgeting and his body shifting around.

Chan’s eyes softened. “I think I can guess, yeah. Do you have any friends?”

If the situation was any different, Jisung would have probably laughed at the rude way the question was worded. But right now, this was a proper question for Chan to ask.

His fidgeting got a little worse. “I used to have some. I know some people. Wouldn’t call any of them a friend though.”

“Okay, this will sound very cheesy, but...”, Chan inhaled air and turned his hands into finger guns pointed at his dongsaeng, “You can have a real friend now if you want.”

Jisung stared at the other’s outstretched hands and his crooked smile. There was an awkward silence for the next few seconds. 

Then Jisung started laughing. He felt a bit like a lunatic, maybe the starvation, stress and his health were getting to him, but it felt nice to laugh with someone else in this calm, friendly atmosphere. 

Chan was taken aback for a moment but then the bright grin returned to his face. 

“Yes, yeah, that was pretty cheesy. But, well, I guess I have one now. I mean, you bought me food so... I guess we’re friends, hyung”, Jisung could not help the giddy feeling rising up inside of him. Of course, his words weren’t entirely genuine - a friend was someone you could trust unconditionally and that definitely didn’t fit his relationship to Chan, but it still felt nice to imagine.

There was a moment filled with silence again but this time it was way more comfortable. 

“Say, Jisungie... When was the last time you ate?”

“... Just now”, Jisung decided to try and avoid the question.

“You know what I mean”, Chan said in a soft voice but he didn’t press him further on that topic. “Do you have a place you frequently sleep at?”  
When the younger slowly nodded he added: “Can you show me?”

Out of instinct, an alarm rang in Jisung’s head at the thought of showing someone else his frequent shelter but he decided to shrug it off. This dude had a place of his own and he really didn’t seem like one of those people that liked to fuck with others while they were sleeping and vulnerable.

“I guess.”

“Thank you.”

Jisung felt unsure what to do now. “Um, you mean right now?”

Bang Chan answered the question by standing up and smiling down at him but this time his smile did not reach his eyes. Immediately Jisung’s mind warned him to be cautious but he stood up anyway.

He looked around to make sure they would be going in the right direction and then quietly turned left and walked in that direction. Bang Chan followed him wordlessly.

They kept on walking for about twenty minutes, not saying anything. Jisung was tense, his fingers moving restlessly at his side. It was a weird situation and he could not help his worrying.

And he could not help flinching when Chan suddenly spoke up.  
“I’ve never been in this part of the city before. It’s... different.”

Jisung took a conscious look around. They were in one of the poor parts of the city, with the old houses and trash - the literally one and the one looking like a human - at every corner.

A lot of houses were abandoned, just silently waiting for their demolition. 

Jisung found himself wondering sometimes how many people could relate to that as much as he could.

It was one of the parts of the cities mothers warned their daughters about, the kind of place a normal person would not walk through after dark.  
Like every teenager Jisung had watched movies and read books, of course, he had heard stories about homeless kids. Sometimes they found comfort in places like this - called shabby, cold and empty houses ‘home’ or something like that. He would never do that. He was way too realistic to do something that innocent and naive.

This was not home, this was the darkest hole of them all.

He wondered for a moment if Bang Chan was afraid or weirded out. He didn’t seem to be - his face was kept carefully neutral but his eyes shine with curiosity, even if he was walking a little closer to his dongsaeng than usual.

“Different it is”, Jisung replied shortly but not rudely, not entirely sure how he was to behave in a situation like this. 

“How far is it?”, maybe Chan did feel a bit uncomfortable - at least he wanted to keep talking, presumably to have a bit of a distraction from the stares seemingly coming from every gaping window.

Jisung indulges him. “About five minutes of walking. The houses here aren’t safe”, if an abandoned house full of homeless people could even be safe in any sense of the word, Jisung added mentally, “I found one I trust enough a bit further away from the actual houses you can live in.”  
Bang Chan hesitated for a moment but then his curiosity got the better of him. He leaned a bit more into Jisung’s personal space - the latter had the fleeting thought that that might have been a not so nice experience, his personal hygiene was regrettably lacking- and whispered: “Why is it unsafe?”

“Well, since this is the ‘nicer’ part of this quarter, it’s still interesting to gangs. I know which one’s reigning here and I’d like to avoid running into them again.”

Bang Chan made a slight ‘oh’-sound, apparently wishing he would not have asked at all.  
Jisung barely suppressed a chuckle.

After a few minutes of walking and Bang Chan gradually starting to hide behind the smaller, they left the gang turf. Now there were exclusively abandoned buildings looming high above them. The street lights out here had given out quite a long time ago and nobody had ever bothered replacing them. One of the houses on their left seemed to be unfinished, still looking quite a lot like a construction site. On the ground floor a group of people dressed even worse than Jisung were huddling around - quite cliché, Jisung thought- a barrel with a burning fire inside.

Jisung stopped walking not much further. Bang Chan almost ran into him, being entirely distracted by all the new impressions he was taking in.

“Here we are.”  
Without waiting for Bang Chan to gather his senses, Jisung turned to the right and walked straight to an opening in the wall that was barely covered by a big piece of what looked like sheet metal. The building itself looked tragic - holes that used to be windows were gaping, some of them covered up by all kinds of materials, clearly the result of desperation and cold. Maybe it was once an apartment complex, full of happy families. Jisung tried not to think too much about it.

“C’mon”, he said quietly but loud enough so that Bang Chan would definitely hear him. Shortly before arriving at the door he turned right again, making his way close to the wall, listening to the sounds around him and Chan’s footsteps to make sure he was still behind him.

“Jisungie… I have a phone. I could turn on a flash-“  
“No! Definitely not. No-one here can know you have a phone”, the younger said, as quietly as he could.

Bang Chan did not answer, clearly not used to being in the darkness, and just kept on following him.

There were stairs on the outside of the building to get out of the house during a fire. Jisung confidently made his way up the shaky looking construction, waving for Chan to follow him.  
Silently they travelled upwards until the third floor.  
The door was still intact, even if looking worse for wear. Jisung groaned in annoyance when he pressed and shook the door but it wouldn’t budge. “Wait, let me try”, Chan offered and after just a few seconds he managed to break it open.

“Thanks”, Jisung gave him a small, tense smile. This was such an uncomfortable situation, why were they doing this again?

Inside it was as cold as outside but the wind wasn’t as merciless. The walls were bald, the plaster coming off. They were standing in a big room, parted by other small rooms by walls without doors, just holes.

Jisung walked ahead through one straight ahead and then turned to the left. This room even had a functioning door but when the younger waved him inside he noticed some of the ceiling was missing. The door was closed again and Chan noticed that there was a small cave-like erosion in the wall, barely big enough for a person. A dirtied pink blanket was lying on the floor, more was not visible in the darkness.

“Home sweet home”, Jisung snorted.

Bang Chan’s face was hard to read, not only because of the dark. They stood there in silence for a few heartbeats.  
Suddenly the silence was broken by a long moan from upstairs. 

Chan started blushing. That was not a moan of pain.

“Oh, ignore that”, Jisung said, clearly used to it.  
“Does that happen often?”, Chan’s voice was a bit shaky, either from the cold or from being embarrassed.

The younger shrugged. “There are a lot of things you can do to fill your stomach.”  
His hyung gave him a heavy look, his face carefully neutral. “What do you do?”

Jisung’s face hardened. The implication was clear. 

When Bang Chan saw the look on his dongsaeng’s face he immediately began to back row. “I’m so sorry Jisung-ah, I went too far. You really have to excuse my behaviour, this is just all… too much for me to take in immediately.”

The younger analyzed his facial expression while still glaring and softened. He guessed he could understand that.

“Let’s just… Not talk about that”, he coughed with a rattling sound resonating from his lungs. Damn, that did not sound good. Before his hyung could comment, he went on, “Whatever. Why did you want me to take you here?”

Chan looked even more uncomfortable like he knew Jisung would not like the reply he was going to give.

“Look, Jisung. You might not believe me right now, but I really like you. You have quite an interesting mind and we get along quite well. When I offer you this now… Please don’t see this as charity”, he inhaled deeply.

The younger was growing tenser, not sure what he was supposed to prepare for.

“I told you I was living with some of my friends, right? We still have a small room we don’t use. It’s not a lot of space but it’s warm and safe and relatively clean and-“, Chan exhaled a deep sigh,“You are very, very, very welcome to occupy this space.”

Jisung was lost for words. His mouth was standing open in the shape of a small ‘oh’ but not making a sound, his eyes staring ripped wide open at his hyung.

He couldn’t even organize his own thoughts.  
“Ah Jisung, don’t give me that look-“  
“You’re just asking me, a total stranger, a homeless kid, someone who’s living in a wall and who used some very shady methods in the past to fill his belly, like you found out only just now, to live with you?”

“I mean, um,”, Chan fidgeted with the hem of his sweater, “Yes, I guess?”

Jisung gave a short, unamused laugh. “Dude, that does not sound like a good idea.”

“Only because you’re wording it like this.”

“How could you possibly make that sound like a good idea?”

Chan’s voice was steady as he answered: “I found out a friend that I recently made is in a very very bad situation and because I know I can help him as his sensible hyung and helpful friend I will offer that help to him.”

“So it’s charity”, Jisung snorted.

“Not really…”, Chan was definitely buying time with his long pauses, “What if I employ you? Like as some kind of housekeeper? Me and the others are at school a lot and the apartment looks like shit most of the time. And instead of payment”, he gave him a big smile, “You can crash at our place.”

It was obviously still charity but the younger decided against wording that out loud. 

“What about your friends? You can’t just invite anyone to their private space.”

“That… is a valid point. But I know them and I know that they would not mind, given the circumstances. Please, Jisung… I can’t bear leaving you back here. Let me help you.”

Jisung felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside. One side of his mind was screaming at him to run away, get far away, that guy was bad news, no-one could be that good of a person to just do something like that. The other was screaming at him to say ‘yes’, to finally get away from all the shit that has been eating away at him, from the cold and starvation and the awful things that come with it.

“From friend to friend?”, Chan tried again, slowly raising his fist for a fist bump.

The younger eyed up the fist, trying hard to think but his head felt like it was filled with cotton.

“Can I… Can I have some time to think about it?”, Jisung took a step back as if he couldn’t bear standing that close to the other anymore. Chan was slowly lowering his fist as he continued: “Let’s meet again tomorrow. I’ll sleep over it, you can ask your roommates. Let’s meet again in front of the café we first met at. Okay?”

“Will you really come?”, Chan asked in a small voice.

“I’ll definitely come, yeah. Even if I decide against it, I promise”, Jisung answered in a steady voice, “But if you decide against it, you don’t have to come - and don’t worry, I really won’t be mad.”

Bang Chan shook his head. “That won’t happen…”, he mumbled, but gave him a small smile, “Deal.”

“Deal”, the younger repeated and returned the smile with something close to genuine.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to the main street, it’s getting late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some insight into Jisung's life and a bit more of a description of each of their attires  
> Thank you for 100 kudos! This is crazy, in just two days...  
> Tbh I have no idea how Seoul works but let's just pretend that this is realistic  
> What an offer, Bang Chan you absolute mad lad  
> Also in case you noticed I describe Chan's face a lot it's because this is out of Jisung's pov and he analyses other people constantly to find out when he has to be cautious so he's very wary of other people's emotions  
> I made a playlist to help me while writing if you have any songs that fit the mood hit me up! Also if you guys want me to I could link it  
> Place your bets on what's going to happen next chapter (I can promise you I'm not looking forward to writing it lol)  
> Thank you for all the comments as well I love replying to them and interacting with you guys  
> Btw don't get used to the quick updates I can't guarantee anything but I'll try to update at least once a week in the future  
> ZhiLu out, hope you guys liked the chapter


	4. White Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re on the streets at night for the fun. For the power-rush they felt from taking care of their territory, from terrorising the kids who had hit rock bottom.
> 
> Jisung really, truly hated them. Life was fucking unfair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> / Chapter Song: White Blood - Oh Wonder  
> / Trigger Warnings (spoiler alert) in end notes

It had gotten late and cold but Jisung was still wandering through the city.

Even though he was beyond exhausted - all of these new experiences, the cold and the hunger still weighing him down - the teenager was sure he could not have caught a wink of sleep if he had just laid down in his little cave.

So here he was, wandering the streets, way past 12 am. Parting from Bang Chan had been weird. Jisung had to promise his hung about ten times (five pinky promises included) that he would definitely turn up to their meeting, no matter what.  
If Chan was regretting his offer he was great at hiding it, not indicating any emotion at all. He had seemed deep in thought, quietly trotting next to Jisung. At the main road the younger had silently given back his coat and had given the nervous elder a shaky smile, which had been promptly returned with a bright one by the other.  
Then he turned around to leave only to suddenly be stopped by a strong grip on his arm.

“Jisung…”, Chan began as the teenager looked into his eyes, “I’m here now. I will help you, I promise that. Hyung is here.”

Jisung really did not know how to react to that. So he didn’t.

The younger had only nodded and kept on walking in the opposite direction of Bang Chan, ignoring the other’s heavy eyes on his hunched back.

After thinking for hours Jisung still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now - things had gotten so complicated so fast. 

The wish that they would have never met hit him hard, confusing him. Someone had reached out a hand towards him, had cared if he lived or died and treated him with respect, and all he did was wish it would have never happened. How fucking ungrateful was he really?

But on the other hand maybe it was justified. A kid in the streets had quite a lot on its mind, to describe it nicely, and this was just adding on to the emotional baggage, giving Jisung even more heavy thoughts. What if he was only toying with him? What if he wanted to take advantage of him? What if he really meant what he said? What if he could solve all of his problems?Jisung wanted to scream. But he didn’t. He only wandered on.

It was time to go back, the cold mercilessly striking his face, his entire feet and hands were already numb anyway. He had already gotten close to his favourite shelter.  
That’s when he heard a loud voice. Fuck, he hadn’t paid any attention to his surroundings - all of the cautiousness caged in the back of his mind while Jisung was just thinking the same few thoughts over and over again.

“Ya!”  
Jisung closed his eyes. That could not be happening.  
Of course he knew who the ones calling him were. He was on gang turf. It wasn’t hard to guess.  
The teenager stopped walking and turned towards the voice.

“Come here. We ain’t joking around”, a tall, buff guy said. Only his vague form was visible, a fire hidden behind the wall next to him seemed to illuminate his back. 

Jisung hesitated for only a millisecond. If they were really from that gang he better not disobey them. He had run-ins with their likes before - he had the scars to prove.

The man had returned to his friends around the campfire. There were five of them, they easily outnumbered him. Fear began to grip Jisung’s heart like an iron cage, his fingers fisting into the fabric of his hoodie. And anger. He felt anger when he saw their clean, expensive clothing. Those gang members were definitely not homeless, they rarely ever where. They’re on the streets at night for the fun. For the power-rush they felt from taking care of their territory, from terrorising the kids that had hit rock bottom. Jisung really, truly hated them. Life was fucking unfair.

“What’s your name?”, a different guy, though as buff as the other, asked him, his face looking even more sharp and threatening in the flickering light.

“Jisung”,the teenager answered, trying desperately to keep the stutter out of his voice.

“No last name, huh?”,Guy 2 laughed, analysing Jisung’s attire. The smaller felt shame rise up inside him. “So you are one of them, hm? Great.”

“Hey, I know that bitch!”  
Jisung turned his head towards Guy 3 and the humiliation peaked. He was familiar.

When nobody really reacted towards his outburst except for a few faces turned to him, Guy 3 continued on, a disgusting sneer accompanying his words: “Does a good job on his knees, if ya know what I mean.”

Some of the others laughed out loud, some only looked amused.

“So, Jisungie”, Guy 2 spit out his name like he was talking about a terminal illness, “As I know you spent a lot of time around here... You must know our rules, right?”

Jisung swallowed hard. Of course he knew them. Of course he knew that an outsider wasn’t allowed on their turf after 12 am. How could he have been that careless?

“I’m really sorry”, he was shaking. This was not good. “I tr-tr-truly am. Please fo-forgive me.”

The gang members laughed again. One of them played around with a metal baseball bat. What the fuck.

Guy 2, apparently their leader, spoke up again: “Aww, Jisungie. Jiji. J-dog. That won’t cut it.”  
He pretended to think about it, putting his clothed fingertips to his chin. “Maybe if you apologised properly... Get down on your knees.”

Jisung froze. Was he really asking for... what he was thinking he was asking for? This could not be happening. Yes, he had done things like that before. But only in his deepest desperation and starvation.

Apparently he was hesitating for a few moments too long because he suddenly found himself on his knees, a groan of pain escaping his lips when his jeans ripped on the sharp stones beneath him, exposing the teenager’s bare knees to the sharpness. 

Guy 2 laughed again (Jisung really hated that sound). “Not like that, you slut. I ain’t a faggot. But you should beg for forgiveness on your knees.”

Jisung didn’t even have the brain capacity left to feel offended or hurt by the slurs, his mind completely in survival mode. He lowered his head, hands folded before his chest.

“Please, please, I’m so sorry, it will never happen again! I deeply apologise”, this was no time for false pride. Not that Jisung had a lot of real pride left.

“Ooohh, that’s what I was talking about. Well, if you say it like that... What do you say guys, should we let him go?”

The homeless boy tried his best not to feel the glimmer of hope rising up inside of him. Maybe they had a good day - maybe, just maybe, they felt a bit of mercy in their fucked up heads. 

Or maybe not.

Jisung had not expected the kick straight to his face. He was thrown over, the back of his head hitting the hard floor, blood beginning to rush from his nose. 

Immediately his hands flew to his face, groaning in pain. Fuck, oh fuck. That’s a lot of blood.

There was another kick, this time to his side. To his ribs, Jisung realised with horror. 

Soon it was raining kicks on him, the constant pain and panic made it hard for him to focus on anything at all. He could barely think straight, all rational thoughts replaced by a consistent stream of “stop, stop, make it stop”. He was so tired, barely trying to fight back after the first few attacks. They were laughing, they were still laughing at him. 

All of a sudden the kicking stopped. Jisung blinked open his tear-filled eyes, only now realising he had even closed them. It was over. It was finally over.

He really needed to stop being optimistic.

Suddenly the pain on his left ankle got so intense that he tried squirming away, but it was pinned down. In panic Jisung looked up and looked straight into the eyes of Guy 3. That motherfucker was standing on his ankle. He was standing there. Holding the metal baseball bat. The metal baseball bat, glowing red. It was hot.

Guy 3 didn’t say anything. He only caught the terrified boy’s gaze with his own. Then, he slowly started to smirk. Started to lower the bat. Life was really fucking unfair.

The agony was unimaginable. Jisung was screaming for his life, eyes rolling back into his head. There was nothing but pain in his mind, all coherent thoughts had left him. 

The bastard dragged the burning hot metal across his cheek. Then across his exposed stomach. He kept on dragging, like he was drawing and Jisung felt like he was dying, no, he wished he was dying. 

One heartbeat to the other, Jisung hadn’t even noticed one of the other guys standing close to his head, another sharp pain flashed at his temple and his world was plunged into darkness.

Relief.

.

.

.

Cold, there was icy cold all around him. He wasn’t lucid, not in any sense of the word. 

Then pain. All over him. Filling his head, his face, his lungs, his stomach, his legs. Everything hurt. 

Dragging his eyes open seemed to take an eternity and an immense amount of concentration and effort. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. 

Slowly his eyes blurred into focus, trying hard to make sense of the complete darkness around him. In a way Jisung was eternally grateful - light wouldn’t have helped his headache.

He tried to sit up but it was just impossible. Everything was so heavy, he felt so heavy, he was so heavy.

Then he tried to move only one finger at a time. His limbs were frozen, feeling more like ice cubes glued to his shoulders. Wiggling his toes, slowly but surely he succeeded in getting at least a bit of feeling back into them - well, at least in his hands and one of his feet. The other was just full of pain, no matter if he tried to move it or not.

For a few moments, Jisung was just lying there.

When his eyes managed to focus enough to do so, he started looking at the stars shining down on him. Then his eyes filled with tears, suddenly he was full on silently sobbing, the salty tears hurting awfully on his injured cheek but Jisung only felt numb, his body so overwhelmed by everything else that it started shutting off.

This was rockbottom, he thought. Now he had managed it. He’d finally reached the lowest point a human could reach.

Maybe you could reach lower - maybe things could be worse.

Then Jisung did not want to live to experience that.

In general, Jisung did not really want to live at all right now.

That was just bullshit. Everything. The world. His life. Fuck.

Everything hurts all the time. When it’s not the cold, then it’s starvation. When it’s not starvation, it’s psychological trauma. When it’s not psychological trauma, it’s five fucked up men on a power trip.

How bad could death really be? 

Jisung was not religious, oh hell no. There probably was nothing after death - eternal sleep, eternal darkness. That shit did not sound too bad right now.

His thoughts spiralled out of control, his sobs slowly stopping. What was he even afraid of?  
Living was so much harder than dying. 

Suddenly he stopped his thoughts in their tracks.  
Living really was so much harder than dying - but it could also be a lot more beautiful.  
Memories came flashing in his mind: a warm embrace, the feeling of lying in a clean bed, stuffing his face with cookies, laughing with his friends.

Jisung wanted to experience that again. If only one more time, if only half as great as his expectations. Before he’d eventually die, he really wanted to feel those things one more time.

Before he went cold he wanted to be warm again.

The thought manifested, flowing like a mantra through his head. 

I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die.

Jisung turned his head slightly, listening to find out whether someone else was close. No sound.  
He couldn’t have been out of it for that long as it was still clearly night time - but the bastards had left and the fire had died.

What to do? He had to get out of here. Get somewhere safe. Get somewhere close to safe.

Jisung’s usual shelter could not be far away. He knew standing up was out of the question - ankle, strength and dizzying headache weren’t that good conditions to do that - and his knees were burning, so the only way to go was crawling. Great.

He kept the memory of his feeling of warmth in the front of his mind as he slowly and agonisingly started to pull himself forward with his wary and aching fingers. It hurt so much sometimes Jisung felt like he couldn’t even breath. But he kept on. He continued his pursuit to the sidewalk, over the sharp stones. His stomach felt like it had been ripped apart and the homeless kid didn’t dare looking down there, he didn’t even want to know how bad it was.

Jisung was going to fight, he was going to get to shelter. If he died tonight he wanted to die trying, not just accepting death.

He really really wanted to feel warm again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /TW: Mentions of Prostitution and rape, violence and suicidal thoughts
> 
> Yeah, that was not a happy chapter.  
> Pls don’t kill me  
> Tell me what you think in the comments below  
> Ahhh you guys I kept procrastinating this chapter because I feel so sorry for Jisung and I’m really not satisfied with my writing this time so yea Imma just throw this chapter at you and leave again peace out
> 
> EDIT: btw thank you so much for 1k Hits and 150 kudos!! This makes me feel a little better


	5. Daze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: this chapter sucks I'm sorry y'all and it's also short yay

Everything hurt. He kept his eyes shut, the dizziness making him almost black out whenever he tried to take in his surroundings. He tried to keep himself grounded by repeating the memories of the last few hours over and over, blocking out everything that had happened… before that.

But he felt so far away from everything, the only thing keeping him alive seemed to be the agony pulsing through him. He hated this.

He was Jisung. He had woken up, had quite a lot of injuries, he had crawled through the mud to the safehouse, had blacked out shortly on the stairs but managed to get close to his resting place, collapsing in the small room. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Keep conscious. Keep being alive.

He did not know how long it had been. He had kept his face firmly buried in the ground, eyes closed, hours bleeding into hours. Consciousness fading into unconsciousness fading into consciousness. Non-coherent dreams without sleep.

“This is crazy.”

That was a voice. Jisung forced himself to at least try to be attentive. He was weak. An easy target. And he was close to his belongings. They could not come here.

“Look, I’m telling you…”, the rest of the phrase faded out into the ringing of Jisung’s ears. When he could finally hear again, he heard quickly and loudly approaching footsteps.  
They were coming here. They’re looking for him.

God, oh god. This was it.

If they came again to end what they had begun- if they decided he wasn’t worthy- if they came back- a small surge of panic rushed through his body before being replaced by numbness.  
Whatever. So what if they came.

Make it quick.

Jisung slowly turned his head towards his little cave in the wall. Hesitantly opened his eyes. Everything was blurry, a mess of colours. It hurt.   
But he did not want to die in darkness.  
Little stones falling from his face. He did not even have the energy to hiss as they painfully fell from his burned cheek. 

“Oh my god, oh my- Jisung, fuck, shit…”

That voice. He recognized it. Maybe? One of the gang members? No, something pleasant. What…?

He heard rustling around him, someone had walked around his curled up form to look at his face.

It was way too dark to recognize any facial features. Way too dark? 

“Hey, hey, Jisungie, can you hear me? Can you see me? It’s me, hyung”, the voice continued. Hyung. It’s Chan. That idiot. How did he know?

The confusion and the surge of impressions after hours of nothing made his headache, barely being able to grasp a thought long enough to understand it.

Suddenly a sharp, way too bright light was pointed at his face. He groaned and closed his eyes so fast he got dizzy again. Damn.

“Ugh Minho, what the fuck?”

“He reacted. At least we know he’s somewhat conscious now!”

Minho? Light? He couldn’t bear this anymore. Too much.

“Jisungie, we need to… Do you…”, his hyung’s voice was fading in and out. Being attentive was too much.

He was grasping every bit of his strength just to stay awake but he was slowly losing his fight.

The last energy he could muster up was used on a small, tired smile.

Before he sunk into darkness, one last thought went through his head.

Hyung is here.

.  
.  
.  
.

Once again, a terrible sense of deja-vu starting to rise up inside of him, Jisung slowly climbed out of the darkness to pain. 

With a start, suddenly all memories returned to his head.  
Just now there was nothing and suddenly everything came back.

His hand flying to his head, Jisung ripped open his eyes to assess the situation. Where the fuck was he? What was happening?

As his eyes slowly blurred into focus he tried to focus on other senses first.  
He heard nothing much but his own ragged breathing, his nose was too closed up (swollen?) to smell. He was definitely lying on something soft, might be a kind of couch, covered by an equally soft blanket.

Finally, his eyesight was back. Jisung let his eyes wander slowly, taking in the bright blue walls. There wasn’t much decoration, some pictures that were too far away to see what they portrayed.   
Turning his head to the side or tilting it downwards required too much energy so he just kept staring at the wall to his left.

It hit him like a ton of bricks.He was in someone’s house.

Jisung shot up - to immediately double over in pain.

Yeah. Stomach wound. He had almost forgotten about that. When he pulled the protective hand he had put on the source of the pain away, Jisung was shocked to see it covered in dark red blood.  
“Fuck, fuck, no, shit”, he muttered panicked, a cold shudder running down his back.

“Oh you’re awake- Oh no”, an unfamiliar voice came from behind him and Jisung flinched so hard he fell from the couch. Every bit of survival instinct in him was screaming. Feeling like a prey looking up at its hunter he ignored every aching muscle and scrambled further into the room, away from the man at the door.

Shaking and with panicked eyes darting back and forth Jisung tried to analyze the other in the fastest way possible. Fight or flight. Fleeing was close to impossible with the man blocking the door. Could he take him down in a fight?

The other seemed quite tall from his place on the floor, he didn’t look too strong though (even though he was still at quite the advantage compared to a homeless kid) and not much older than Jisung himself. He had quite soft facial features and his hands were raised as if to calm him down but Jisung knew better than to fall for things like this. He searched for the other’s eyes but in his craze he couldn’t find any information.

He might be able to take him down. Should he try?

Under soft boy’s watchful eyes Jisung slowly and painfully pulled himself into a half-crouched but standing position, suppressing any noises from escaping his mouth.   
He raised his head and focused his eyes on the other, one hand protectively curled over his stomach wound, every muscle tense in preparation.

Soft boy looked surprised but did not move.

The tension was thick in the room. Only Jisung’s loud heaving of exhaustion broke the silence. He had to fight. He had to do it now, as long as he had still some energy left.

In a snap decision, he put one foot in front of the other as fast as he could, trying to use the element of surprise by charging right at the other.

Soft boy stumbled back a bit but stood there like a deer in the headlights. His tactic was working.  
Shortly before Jisung would crash into the other someone jumped in front of him.  
“Stop! Jisungie, hey!”

With a start, Jisung recognized the person standing between him and his victim. Bang Chan. Hyung. 

He tried to stop, he really did, but the reaction time had been way too short. He crashed into the older boy. Before Jisung could fall backwards arms wrapped around him. 

It was silent in the room again. The youngest’s heart was beating against his ribcage like crazy. 

Suddenly all the fight left him. The firm grip he had instinctively put on Chan’s sweater weakened and his legs gave out under him.

This was so overwhelming. Shakingly and held up only by his hyung’s arms around him, Jisung buried his face in the other’s soft sweater and started crying.   
He couldn’t think anymore. He was so dizzy. He was so confused.

A large hand softly petted his hair. A few moments of silence. 

Slowly, but surely, the darkness crawled up his body again and Jisung was out cold in moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a tough week but wanted to give you some content before the weekend ends just so I'd at least kind of stay in the flow
> 
> Super thankful for close to 2k hits and 240 kudos! What's happening omg
> 
> Not gonna lie this also puts pressure on me and I feel like I'm not anywhere close to where my writing should be to deserve all this support but whatever I guess you guys can stop reading whenever just pls don't be too disappointed in me ye thanks  
> Ugh really don't feel like publishing this but re-writing it won't make it better I guess   
> Alternative title: squirrel boi spends more time unconscious than conscious


	6. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The silence grew again. Felix shifted, Changbin looked at his hyung with big eyes and Minho felt like banging his head on the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya guys I'm back!!
> 
> Writer's block and life hit me like a truck but I fought tooth and nails to come back. I can't believe we're at 331 kudos, 46 bookmarks and 3k hits right now??! You're all crazy <3
> 
> To thank you for all the nice comments and the patience here's a peek moment told from Minho's POV and it's not even that angsty! Yay!

"Fucking hell, Chan, you can't be serious!" Minho was obviously annoyed, sitting at the kitchen table and gripping his glass of water way too hard. All of them were in sweatpants, ready for bed when Chan called in this very necessary emergency roommate meeting.

"Dude", Felix' deep voice rose from the floor, where he sat leaning against the wall, dyed blonde hair still damp from a late night shower.  
He shifted slightly to face Minho.   
"Look, I think your resistance is justified, yeah? I just think we should discuss this matter calmly."

Minho rolled his eyes out of a matter of hurt pride from being basically scolded by the younger but he did have to agree with him internally. 

Chan was staring at him, clearly looking for eye contact. 

"Minho, I know it's not the best solution ever. But it's going to be winter soon and it's already so cold outside. I don't... I couldn't deal with myself if we just pushed him out there again", Chan winced slightly by the end of his sentence, fidgeting nervously.

Obviously, he would feel awful if they send him back. Chan had a way too big heart and he'd already basically adopted the homeless boy as his younger brother. Minho knew that this was partly clouding his senses - emotions shouldn't be thrown in the mix when decisions were in order.

"Okay, okay. Let's think about this rationally for a second, yeah?", Changbin spoke up for the first time and Minho thanked him internally for being of the same opinion as he was.

“We don’t really have a room for him neither do we have money. He can't sleep in the living room forever“, Felix said matter-of-factly. 

Chan shrugged nonchalantly. “We have that broom closet. It’s not big by any means but big enough to fit a sleeping bag or something. It’s still a palace compared to…“, he trailed off, tapping his fingers awkwardly against the table, just to fill the silence a little. Then he continued on more confidently: “And, well, about the money. I have decided to get a job.“

The silence grew again. Felix shifted, Changbin looked at his hyung with big eyes and Minho felt like banging his head on the table. “Come on, Chan. You’re stressed enough as it is. You don’t have time to work!“, Minho tried to remind him, calmly and softly enough as to appeal to the other. It was just the truth. Both Changbin and Chan were majoring in Music and they spent more time at the university’s studio than at home. None of them could make time for a job.

Minho watched the Australian closely. At first, he looked kind of deflated, then he balled his fists and clenched his teeth. Finally, Chan looked up, mustering each of them individually before speaking up.

“Look, I appreciate all of your concern. I really do!“, he assured them, looking straight at Changbin who had started to scoff slightly, “And call me a hippie or whatever but this might be my shot to make the world a better place, To show I’m thankful for my upbringing and my place in the world, and to use my means to help others who weren’t as fortunate as me.“

Minho sighed. Bang Chan was just too good for this world. And god damn it, he was right.

The three skeptical roommates shared a look. Then Minho sighed.

“Okay.“

„Okay?“, Chan’s head shot up, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. If he was a dog, his tail would probably be wagging.

“Yeah“, Felix chipped in.

“Fine with me too“, Changbin said but before Chan could explode with a grateful speech to them, he held up his hand, one finger raised, „Under one condition: You don’t pick up a job for now. We’ll try to make it as it is and if it doesn’t work out we’ll see.“ 

“That’s okay“, Chan smiled brightly, “Thank you guys, I mean It.“

They shared another silence but not an awkward one this time. Everyone kind of got lost in their own thoughts for a few moments until Changbin slowly stood up.

“I hate to be the one to break this meeting apart but we should get really get to the studio, hyung. We have to submit our project tomorrow, y’know.“

„Oh yeah, yeah, very true“, Chan nodded and scrambled to his feet, pulling on the brown faux-leather jacket that had been hanging on the back of his chair. Before the both of them left the room, Changbin gave Felix a quick kiss goodbye on the temple as Chan turned in the doorway to address the ones staying home.  
“He’s been out of it for a while. It’s not that unlikely that he might wake up tonight - I can’t really give you advice how to deal with him because honestly I don’t him that well yet“, Chan rambled on, obviously a bit nervous about this scenario, “But just try to be gentle, show him you’re no threat and try to be as compassionate as possible. I’m looking at you, Minho!“

“Hey!“, Minho gasped in mock-offense, putting a flat hand on his chest. Felix only laughed and pushed his hyung slightly as Chan and Changbin left the room, leaving them alone with their new roommate.

Nothing much happened then, actually. Felix and Minho spent some time talking in the kitchen, ate, then went into their respective rooms to sleep after checking up on their new companion through the gap of the open door. 

Minho couldn’t really sleep. It wasn’t that he was being consciously cautious nor that he was feeling particularly anxious, he just didn’t feel very comfortable. 

Which is very justified and totally okay, he decided after having remembered his last encounter with Jisung’s awakened form. Even though there was no doubt he could take on the younger physically, his tiny arms and legs showing no signs of particular strength and his feather-like weight obviously not enough to overthrow Minho, there was this crazed look in the other’s eyes that made shivers run down one’s spine. He looked like a boy that had nothing left to lose, who wasn’t afraid to fight for his life if needed. 

It didn’t make Minho fear Jisung, he just… had a lot of respect for him, he assured himself. And quite a lot of pity, even though he didn’t really show this on the outside. 

The things he must have seen. Minho couldn’t decide if he was curious or terrified of the stories lingering behind the younger’s forehead. The one explaining those nasty and infected burn-wounds on his stomach and even his cheek was probably bad enough to give a normal person nightmares.

But who was a normal person anyway? 

Minho shook his head, trying hard to silence his thoughts and just go to sleep but it just wouldn’t work. He laid there on his bed, in boxer shorts and a simple white shirt, staring at his ceiling. Just a few days ago, everything had been fine. Well, not fine, but it had been the usual. Now everything was all over the place, everything was messed up. 

A crash from the hallway ripped Minho out of his thoughts, making him sit up in bed immediately.

It was probably just Chan and Changbin returning home, he tried to calm himself down, it was probably not a burglar or a maniac homeless kid with a knife. A look at the clock hanging on his wall made him halt in his thoughts - it was only 11 pm. A completely unrealistic time for his older roommates to be home.

Oh no. Oh damn.

Felix was sleeping like a log, Minho was almost sure. The younger had been quite sleepy and not even an earthquake could get him out of his deep slumber, everyone knew. 

So Minho had to either go wake him up or face the kid by himself.

Decisions, decisions. Minho shook his head, trying to reel himself back in. He could handle the kid. He had already affirmed that. 

So he sighed and got up, not bothering to put on more clothes, only taking an empty plate standing next to his bed (totally only to take it back to the kitchen finally, not as a mean of defense, totally).

As he exited his room, he saw him immediately.

Jisung was standing there, next to a small box lying on the ground, thankfully not broken. His position was quite weird, one arm more or less stretched out, the other awkwardly hanging off to his side, legs oddly and shakily standing close together. Though the weirdest thing about the younger were his eyes. In the lit corridor - they always left the lights on here when one of them would come back later that night - Minho could clearly see the younger’s doe eyes were glazed over as if he was not really seeing anything.

Was he sleepwalking?

Suddenly Jisung whimpered, his open and neutral face suddenly twisting as in pain, eyebrows sinking down fast. 

"Please…", he whispered with a raspy voice and if the hallway wasn't dead silent right now Minho would have had to strain his ears to hear him.

"Please…", Jisung repeated before slowly bending his knees before letting them hit the ground softly, curling in on himself lightly, "Please don't hurt me anymore."

Then the younger started sobbing lowly, staying in this position.

Minho was at a loss for words. This was too much. The way Jisung had just begged, the way he was sitting and crying, it tugged at his heartstrings. An uncomfortable feeling of pity began to spread out in Minho's stomach, making him grimace. 

He mustered the younger a bit longer, trying to decide what to do now. Jisung was wearing a grey zip-up, the hood had slid down his head when he had sunken down to the floor, revealing his black, sleep-messy small bun. 

He looked so tiny. 

Minho was never one to feel like he had to protect someone. He didn't have younger siblings nor younger friends growing up. His ex-girl- and boyfriends could protect themselves as well as Felix or Seungmin or Jeongin. And Bang Chan was the overbearing dad enough for their whole group. 

But Minho couldn't deny he didn't feel at least responsible for the other. The younger definitely needed to be cared for - if only just right now, in this situation. And no one else was around to do it. 

Okay, next problem. How does one wake up a sleepwalker? Especially when they seemed to be having an awful nightmare? (A memory, a voice in the back of his head reminded him, he's living through a memory most likely, but Minho decided to ignore the voice for now.)

"Hey, Jisung… Hi!", he said awkwardly, softly at first, then louder. No reaction. He felt like an idiot. Did he really just think this was going to work?

Minho approached the other slowly. Maybe a loud sound? The box had fallen but maybe it had not been loud enough.

He cleared his throat and looked around for something that could help him. His eyes fell on the plate he was still holding in his hands. No, way too dangerous. Minho put it on the dresser when his eyes met the big biology encyclopedia Felix had left lying there after proving a point about the function of the liver to Changbin (Minho remembered that night clearly. It was quite fun to see the two of them drunkenly fight about livers. It wasn't too fun to see them making out on the couch after and having to witness Felix kissing down the other's body and hearing "I'm kissing your liver" before having the chance to flee the room.)

Minho looked down on the younger and hesitantly gave the encyclopedia a small push. The thick book rushed to the floor, making a loud sound when hitting the ground.

Both boys flinched, Jisung a bit harder, his head shooting up and staring at Minho with clear shock in his wide, wet eyes. 

The older gave him a moment to take in his surroundings and come back completely, mustering the younger's face. Tears were still streaming down his puffy cheeks, lips in a small pout. If he was honest with himself, which Minho tried to be more often these days, he had to admit that the younger was cute, very cute actually. Ugh no, what was he thinking about? Not the right timing, not at all. Still, it was true.   
He was ripped from his thoughts by a small chuckle.  
"Uhhh eh, this is awkward", Jisung rasped from his place on the floor, slowly standing up on unsteady legs.

Minho echoed his chuckle. "Yeah, kinda."

"What happened?", Jisung asked, one hand flying to his forehead, the other to his abdomen. 

"You were sleepwalking, I think. You seemed to have… a nightmare."

Jisung obviously tried to appear put together but Minho didn't miss the slight flinch when the word 'nightmare' had been uttered. 

"Yeah…"

The two boys stared at each other sheepishly, not really knowing what to say or do in this situation.

At least Jisung seemed lucid now and not as panicked as the last time Minho had seen him right after waking up. 

Minho sighed. "Do you like hot cocoa?"

Jisung shifted a little awkwardly, rubbing his arm. "Yes", he answered the questions bit uncertainly.

"Come on, I'll make us some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support, as always. I'm looking forward to the next chapter so hopefully writing it won't take another two months hehe ;;
> 
> A lot of dialogue and explaining coming up, so look forward to that I guess :))


	7. Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho cleared his throat. 
> 
> "So… Uhm…", this time it was the other's turn to shift, "How old are you?"
> 
> Jisung quickly looked at the soft boy and gave him a tiny smile, trying to ease the tension a bit.

Jisung shifted in his seat, feeling rather uncomfortable.

Soft boy - Minho, his mind immediately provided - was standing with his back turned towards the other, busying himself with making cocoa for the both of them. Every now and then he mumbled something and Jisung himself wasn't really sure whether he was talking to himself or the other but he appreciated the supposed effort nonetheless.

It was weird, just sitting there. Jisung started to twiddle his thumbs after some time, stopping again soon after. He kept shifting, trying to get his thoughts off the awful nightmare he had just encountered. 

It had been nothing short of horrible, a mix of carefully suppressed memories and deep-rooting anxieties. Until he had been snapped out of it so suddenly. He was really grateful for that. He was also really grateful for the attempt of talking to him by inviting him into the kitchen in the middle of the night.

If only it wasn't this awkward.

They were practically strangers, well, at least Jisung barely knew anything about Minho except his first name and the apartment the other lived in, while Minho seemed to know a few more rather embarrassing details about Jisung's life. Details that made conversing like 'normal' strangers awkward.

Finally, Minho turned around and snapped Jisung out of his thoughts once again. He slowly sat down, giving the other a rather honest smile.

"Cocoa will be ready in a few minutes. The milk has to cook first", he explained slowly which angered Jisung a bit (he was homeless not retarded) but he kept his face carefully neutral, opting instead to nod slightly in understanding.

Then the silence was reigning in the small room again. As Minho sat back with a sigh, Jisung mustered the kitchen a bit more. The walls were painted in a rather new looking coat of egg-shell and were bearing barely any decorations except for a family calendar with room for four names and a clock. The actual kitchenette was on the counters opposite of the basic wooden table surrounded by fitting benches that the boys were currently occupying. There was a counter in the middle, kept free of stuff to have some clear space probably, with a basic refrigerator with a microwave on top on the left side and the stove on the right. There wasn't much more free moving space then for two people and the small garbage can standing on the surprisingly clean yellow floor tiles. 

Minho cleared his throat. 

"So… Uhm…", this time it was the other's turn to shift, "How old are you?"

Jisung quickly looked at the soft boy and gave him a tiny smile, trying to ease the tension a bit. 

"I'm 18", he answered, keeping his voice steady and warm. After their last encounter Jisung needed to show Minho that he definitely wasn't a threat.  
"What about you?"

His tactic seemed to work because Minho visibly relaxed slightly, his shoulders not as hunched up as they had been just moments before. "Ah, I'm 20", even his voice sounded relieved. Suddenly, Minho's face lightened up into a grin, "So I'm your hyung~"

"Ah, everyone here seems to be…", Jisung pouted slightly, playing along with the older's antics. The atmosphere had gotten significantly warmer and Jisung would do everything to keep it that way.

Minho laughed lightly. "Well, three of four roommates here are", he said, his tone almost apologetic, "But Felix is 18, too.""Finally, another millennial!", Jisung sighed exaggeratedly, clutching his chest.

Now Minho gave him a real laugh. "I think you two would get along well, now that I think about it. Felix is certainly quite curious about you."

Jisung perked up. "I'm looking forward to meeting him then."

Another silence came over them, not exactly less awkward than the former but certainly more comfortable. Jisung knew it was his turn to say something and he knew exactly what he needed to say. A thought crossed his mind. How was he supposed to address the other? Were they close enough that he could call him hyung? He pondered the thought for a moment and decided to go the safe route, not wanting to get on the bad side of one of the people that were currently housing him.

"Minho-sshi", he spoke up but Minho interrupted him hastily: "Call me hyung, please, I'm not that much older!"

Jisung smiled at that. "Okay, Minho-hyung. I want to apologize to you for scaring you-", he hesitated a moment, squinting his eyes slightly in thought, "Earlier today…? I didn't know the place I woke up in so I freaked out a bit. I'm truly sorry about that."

Minho looked at him with an expression that was even for Jisung basically unreadable. It scared the younger a bit. It had been some time since something like this had happened to him but well, he had never been in this position before.

Suddenly Minho groaned, hitting his forehead with his palm. Jisung flinched slightly and cocked his head to the side in wonder, looking at the older with big eyes.

"How could I stay mad at you? You're a lot cuter when you're not trying to beat me to a pulp…", Minho started his second sentence quietly and got progressively quieter but Jisung still caught every word, automatically blushing at the praise. It sounded quite genuine.

"T-Thank you", he replied, quite awkwardly, very unsure on how to handle the situation. Usually, guys had second thoughts when they gave him compliments. This wasn't the streets though. This was a small, comfortable kitchen and a friend of Chan-hyung's. 

Still, it felt weird.

They were looking at each other for a long moment. Jisung took in Minho's attire for the first time: The older had dark brown hair reaching down to his ears. He was dressed in just a white shirt and some checkered green boxers, obviously his sleeping clothes. Even though his face seemed a bit tired, Jisung certainly felt bland in comparison: His hyung was really handsome, like, very handsome. As he tried to keep discreetly glancing at Minho's face, he also realized he hadn't had a chance to shower yet nor did he eat anything, having woken up properly only just now.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to ask whether he could take a shower here a loud hissing sound coming from the stove made them both flinch.

Suddenly Minho shot up. "The milk!"

A few moments later a bright green cup of smoking hot cocoa was placed in front of the younger.

"Here you go", Minho said absentmindedly, placing a dark blue cup opposite and proceeding to clean up the stove.

Jisung immediately curled his hands around the cup and almost sighed in pleasure. The cup was warm, so pleasantly warm.

The door opened slowly with a slight creak, a head poking in.

Jisung immediately recognized that face. "Hyung!", he yelled with a big smile on his face.

"Hey Jisungie", Bang Chan looked quite exhausted, eye bags more prominent than the last time he had looked at him properly but Jisung could clearly read the barely suppressed joy in the older's eyes.

After Chan had stepped into the room another boy followed him in. 

Jisung mustered him carefully. The other looked rather intimidating. The bone structure in his face was quite sharp and his eyes were piercing. He couldn't help but tense up a bit.

The other looked a bit surprised as he mustered Jisung back, raising his eyebrows slightly. 

"Hi, I'm Changbin", he said nonchalantly, turning towards the fridge immediately without waiting for an answer.

"Ahhh Changbinnie~ Don't pretend you're a cold bastard~", Minho whined as he sat back down again, Bang Chan taking the free bench between Minho and Jisung while chuckling, leaning over to Jisung and whisper-shouting: "He always acts like this when meeting someone new but he's such a softie on the inside!"

Jisung couldn't help but chuckle at Changbin's frustrated groan as he was rummaging in the very unorganized fridge.

The three friends started to bicker as Jisung relaxed with his back against the wall.

Suddenly Jisung's stomach made an unmistakable sound. All eyes shifted to him, making him blush and look down.

"Wait, Minho did you not feed him?!", Chan said frantically, his tone reminding Jisung a lot of a fretting mother hen.

Minho's lack of a reply was answer enough, prompting Chan to start nagging at the other.

"I can't believe this, how thoughtless of you! Poor Jisungie, he slept the whole day, of course, he's hungry! I know you only have one brain-cell but even that can go a long way if you at least attempt to use it…"

Everyone knew Chan was just being playful, not seriously angry at his roommate, so Changbin and Jisung kept smiling, amused at the situation while Minho gave little "yeah"s and "I know"s as replies while sipping from his cocoa.

Only moments later a cup of hot instant ramen and chopsticks were placed in Jisung still lowered eyesight. He couldn't help but salivate at the smell and raised his eyes to meet Chan's.

"Eat up", Bang Chan said with a fond look in his eyes.

"Thank you", Jisung mumbled quickly, instantly digging in and finishing the food in record time, not even noticing the fascinated and slightly impressed looks the other occupants of the kitchen were giving him. 

When he had finished up the cup he shifted to get up and throw away the plastic but before he could do that, Chan had snatched it from his hold and got up himself.

Jisung could only mumble another 'thank you', feeling a bit self-conscious with the other two boys staring at him. 

"Um… I'm really so thankful that you let me stay here and sweat out my illness. I really appreciate that so, so much", Jisung gave them a real smile to show the older boys just how earnest he was. 

Chan and Minho cooed at the younger while Changbin kept his face neutral, only nodding a little in acknowledgment. Before anyone could say anything though, Jisung decided to keep talking.

"I really don't want to overstay my welcome here- but do you think I could take a shower before I leave?", he said a little uncertainly. As he noticed the looks on the other three's faces fall, he hurried to continue, "I won't take long and I won't use up any of your warm water, I promise! Also, I'll make sure to clean up everything! I'll clean your whole bathroom, yeah? Obviously the couch I was sleeping on too-"

"Jisung", Bang Chan interrupted the younger's panicked rant, trying to get to him before he was going to hyperventilate.

Jisung shut up immediately but he didn't stop panicking. Chan looked way too serious right now.

"You don't have to leave again", this time it was Minho speaking up.

Jisung shifted his eyes from one face to another, his eyes slightly narrowed in confusion.  
"What are you talking about? Of course, I'm leaving", his voice was neutral. Obviously, he had already come to terms with this. Sleeping in the warmth and having a more or less stacked fridge nearby certainly had been a wonderful experience, but that was all there was. An experience, not a long term installment. Not a dream come true.

"Look, the four of us, we have already talked about this. No-one has a problem with you staying here. You're very welcome to keep being our guest."So they actually wanted to keep him here. In the warmth. 

How could Jisung ever take an offer like this? He didn't belong here.

As he was thinking about how to phrase his reply, his stomach wound started to sting a bit as if to remind him of the events of the last few days. He didn't want to go back. Definitely not. But how could Jisung just say 'okay' and be a burden to this group of young boys, stealing their food and their couch?

"Um… I don't… I can't take this offer…", Jisung's voice was wavering as much as his resistance was. 

Chan seemed to notice he was hesitating and brightened up a bit.

"Why not?", Changbin asked, matter-of-factly.

"Because I am…", Jisung couldn't bring himself to say his thoughts out loud. Because he was too dirty. Too broken. Too used to pain. Too dangerous.

Changbin leaned back, crossing his arms triumphantly. Apparently, he thought that Jisung couldn't think of a reason. As if.

Only Chan seemed to notice the youngest's growing distress as he gave him a warm smile.

"Look Jisungie, how about I show you the bathroom and you can take that shower you were talking about? You'll have some time to think and we can talk after.""That… sounds great", Jisung said weakly, his entire body suddenly feeling heavy with exhaustion.  
Chan stood up slowly, Jisung following suit, wincing slightly at the pain in his stomach.  
Immediately he felt eyes on him. 

"Can I take a look at your injuries afterward?", Minho asked softly, obviously trying his hardest not to seem intimidating, "I'm a medical student and I could dress them appropriately so they can heal faster."  
Jisung nodded slightly after some quick though and gave the older a small, grateful smile before following Chan out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah if only I could write a chapter without having to finish it in one sitting! But once I start I can't stop writing hehe  
> Thank you once again for your support <3  
> I love all my boys but somehow I have a soft spot for Changbin in this fanfiction!  
> Btw!! My best friend, an absolute angel of a person, is currently writing a very good LuWoo fanfiction! In case you ship that or just want to support her in the beginning of her fanfiction career, she's called Seven_The_Maknae here and the fanfiction's called "unfortunate"! Add this after the org : /works/16775758/chapters/39365260  
> (She usually comments on these chapters so you can just check out her profile through that too <3)  
> It's a mafia AU and this a wip but it's so cute already T.T
> 
> Okay enough of shameless promotion, thank you for reading and thank you already to everyone leaving a comment, I really appreciate it so much <3


	8. In Cold Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a moment he only stood there, unthinking, unmoving, the water raining down on his still bound hair and head, freezing him to the core. 
> 
> It wasn't good, it wasn't okay, but it was familiar. Maybe it even was what he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take notice of the trigger warnings in the end notes.
> 
> Title taken from alt-j's "In Cold Blood"

"Here we are."

Bang Chan stopped walking in front of an oak door at the end of the small corridor. He waited a few moments, smiling encouragingly at the hesitating boy.

Well, actually, Jisung wasn't even hesitating that much. He just couldn't walk faster due to his bruised ankle. But he wasn't going to let the others know this.

Jisung felt like he finally had some kind of understanding of Bang Chan's character. At least he was sure of two facts - Chan was a slave to his conscience and he pitied his dongsaeng. And Jisung definitely did not want to take advantage of either of these facts.

The younger put a lot of effort in a grateful smile - he had already realized how much his hyung seemed to appreciate it when he did - and stepped into the small room, Chan holding the door open for him.

The bathroom wasn't the most spacious but it was comfortable. The furniture was rather old, everything made of oak wood, the porcelain used for the sanitary ware was looking closer to beige brown than white. Jisung dug his healthier, sock-clad foot into the fuzzy, blue carpet covering the white tiles. It was warm in this room, the heater next to the toilet working in full blast.

While the fascinated boy had mustered the unknown room, Chan had made two towels seemingly appear out of thin air. As he handed them over into Jisung's calloused hands, he suppressed an uncomfortable swallow (Jisung could read his face anyway, there was no use in hiding - but he definitely appreciated the effort).

After explaining the shower buttons to the younger hastily, Chan stepped back and turned to go. "You can use the shampoo bottles standing in the shower, by the way. I guess this should be all. I'll wait with Minho in the kitchen for you to come out, but you don't have to rush."

Before Jisung could open his mouth to protest, Chan raised his hand to wave it off. "Don't worry about it, we're usually awake at this hour anyway", and then he was gone, with one last encouraging twinkle in winking eyes.

Jisung slowly and mechanically closed the door, turning around in the small room and immediately wishing he wouldn't have - he hadn't noticed the mirror before.

"Oh fuck", he muttered into the silence.

He looked awful, to put it shortly.

He definitely preferred to put it shortly. Because if he had to explain it longer, he'd have to think about how his flesh seemed to have given room for most of his facial bones to show, making his cheekbones stand out unhealthily, how dull his eyes were above the deep, purple bags. Jisung would have to acknowledge how dry and brittle and tangled his hair looks. 

The homeless boy bit his split lip as he mustered the way the newly acquired burn wound stood out dark red against too pale skin. Slowly Jisung lifted a shaking finger, close to touching the formless wound before deciding otherwise, letting the hand drop back to his side. A dark blue bruise on his temple and obviously weirdly bent and purple nose completed the colourful look.

Don't fucking start crying now, fuck no.

Jisung turned around, away from the mirror.

He didn't have a problem with shedding his clothes, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of not freezing to death. As he mechanically took off his jacket, pulled off his sweatpants and shirt with great difficulty, he tried to concentrate on that fact. After a few minutes of struggling Jisung managed to get his socks off, sighing when his eyes met his now bare and swollen left ankle and fucked up feet.  
He wiggled out of his boxer shorts. Where did he even get the clothes from? Jisung mentally scolded himself for not asking himself or one of the roommates earlier. Obviously, those weren't his clothes - it was probably a good idea they changed him or they would have needed to give their couch to a cleaning shop. 

Still, the idea of someone's hands on him while he was out cold - hands on him while he couldn't do anything to stop them - hands on him in general, actually, made his stomach churn in panic.

They are the good guys, Jisung reminded himself again and again. They want the best for you. What if they don't?

Jisung sighed shakily. The confusing mixture of crashing and opposing emotions traveled up his throat and got stuck there, making him feel like he was suffocating for a moment, stomach wound stinging violently with every heavy, too fast breath. 

His bruised hand gripped the sink harshly, knuckles whiter than the porcelain.

Reel it back in. Not now. Now's not the time.

You're not safe enough for a panic attack.

It worked. Using this technique worked for him in the past, it had to work. Unimaginable, but sometimes it's really not useful for your survival instinct to break down in a full-blown mental breakdown.

Swallow it down. There we go. Inhale, exhale. Go on.

When Jisung managed to relatively straighten his back again, he got into the shower. Turned it on and turned the handle to the coldest it could go.

For a moment he only stood there, unthinking, unmoving, the water raining down on his still bound hair and head, freezing him to the core. 

It wasn't good, it wasn't okay, but it was familiar. Maybe it even was what he deserved.

Jisung put his arms up, slowly untying his hair, the dark mob tickling his chin, his eyes drifting down his body.

He avoided looking at his stomach. The thought of the wound on his cheek made bile rise up his throat, quickly making him concentrate his gaze on the tiles right in front. 

Frostbites and dry skin should not be kept in the cold, a small voice in the back of his voice provided. It's true, it was logical. So why did he hesitate with his fingers gripping the thermostat?

With a swift movement that had cost him way more power than it should have, the cold rain turned warm, making him sigh in relief, guilt bubbling up in him.  
Jisung decided not to question his feelings anymore.

He started washing himself with the body shampoo provided by the shower floor, rubbing the dirtied skin so hard that the stressed surface turned dark red when he was done with it.

Some wounds hurt. Some didn’t, not anymore. Another thing he wasn’t going to question.

Shakily Jisung grabbed a random bottle that seemed to be for hair and massaged it into the dark locks, slowly getting rid of the tangles, concentrating way too much on such a simple task.

Then he was back to standing, not thinking, not moving. The homeless boy’s thoughts began to wander to the past, to showers he had taken these past few years. To the jammed homeless shelters. He decided this shower here was way more comfortable.

Jisung didn’t know how long he stood there. In a twisted way, he enjoyed the way his skin was thrumming and shaking, he absolutely loved how he could almost feel his blood flow, how his fingers pounded in pain with his heartbeat. It was concerning - but it was him being alive.

After repeating his cleaning process another time, Jisung stepped out of the shower unceremoniously, wrapping the heated towel soft around his body. 

His gaze fell on the folded clothes he had been given - should he put them back on?

Jisung scowled, watching his own face twist in the mirror. Those clothes were barely dirty. Of course, he was putting them back on.

He twisted back into the simple clothing and rubbed his hair with the second towel he had wrapped around his black mob. 

Jisung felt fresh and clean and suddenly very tired. Shit was tiring, very tiring.

After the young man had put up the towels to dry, he regarded the shower. The floor really did seem dirtier. Without thinking much about it, he scrubbed at the tiles with his bare hands. After only a couple seconds the still damp ceramic had been freed of the lingering dark… somethings. Satisfied, Jisung straightened up and raised his hand, turning on the water for a few moments to let the substance disappear in the drain.

As his fingers left the thermostat, Jisung noticed the blood red stains lingering. Sighing he raised shaking hands into his direct vision, the fingertips cracked open as the dry skin had given way to his vigorous scrubbing.

What a long and tiring day. And he'd only been awake for like an hour.

As Jisung finally managed to clean up everything, he slipped out of the door into the lit hallway. Remembering Chan's earlier words, he headed straight for the kitchen.

Laughter greeted him in the small kitchen, Chan slapping the table considerately lightly.

Were they laughing about him? It wasn't a rational thought but Jisung was way too tired for rational thought anymore. The good guys, he thought again. He didn't even try to resist the sudden urge to put his hood up.

When the two boys lounging around the table noticed him, Chan made the effort of a seemingly genuine smile, while Minho stayed with the amused twinkle in his eyes. Briefly, Jisung wondered how they could look at him like that while his face was in such a state.

Obviously he noticed his thoughts going dark more and more often, his mental health seemingly getting worse with the second. It was hard to fight.

Still, Jisung managed to pull off a convincing fake smile, answering positively to Chan's question about his wellbeing without a crack in his voice.

"Then let's take a look at these wounds, shall we?", Minho gestured for him to sit down on the bench furthest into the free space to which Jisung easily complied, suppressing his limb a little longer. 

Minho immediately kneeled down in front of him, Bang Chan acting disinterested on the bench to his left, staring down into his cellphone.

"Okay, so, you gotta help me out a bit. Where's the fire?"  
Soft boy's eyes lit up proudly when Jisung gave a small snort to his comment. He didn't need to know the reason why the younger was laughing.

After a few moments, Jisung realized that a question had been posted. 

"Um…", he felt awkward again. What was he supposed to show him? He didn't want to worry the older boys, he didn't want them to pity him so much they felt like they needed to keep them in their home.

"My cheek…?", Jisung answered hesitantly, going with the most obvious answer. 

Minho nodded, standing up again and leaning over.

Jisung was shaking ever so slightly, hands burying themselves in the soft material of his jacket.  
Forcing his eyes to stay open, he willed himself to stay still as Minho's hands came closer and closer to his skin.

At least this time Jisung didn't smell anymore.

Minho made a thoughtful sound, gently probing the wound with his fingers, touches so soft on his cheek that the younger was reminded of the nickname he had given the then-nameless stranger.

The older really was soft - from his facial features to his hair, Jisung was slightly surprised.

He didn't notice he was staring until Minho gave him a small, a bit smug smile, making him turn his eyes down to his lap.

"Your nose looks bad, that definitely deserves some attention, too. On your cheek, well...There are some smaller blisters", Minho said, touching the skin a bit harder, "Does it hurt?"

"Yes", Jisung mumbled, not raising his eyes. He wasn't too embarrassed (he seemed to have raised his threshold of shame quite a bit in the last few years). Just overwhelmed.

"Okay, that's actually good. If the skin isn't numb, it's probably a second-degree burn."

Jisung flinched slightly as Minho removed his fingers.

"What does that mean…?", Chan asked in Jisung's place. The younger couldn't see his face but his tone sounded curious.

"It means that you should seek a professional."

Jisung's knuckles turned white. "Aren't you a professional?", he inquired, voice slightly unsure.

"Dude! Far from it. They don't even let me near a patient yet!", Minho laughed, the sound warm and without any intent behind it but it made Jisung bite down on his own lip. Silence followed.

"No doctors", the youngest in the room muttered eventually.

"Hey, what do you mean? Obviously you have to-"

"Leave it, Minho", Bang Chan interrupted him, making Minho stare at him over Jisung's shoulder. He seemed annoyed and confused.  
"If he says he doesn't want to, we're not going to make him go." Chan's voice was steady and strong with the obvious feeling of authority and finality.

Minho scowled but gave in. "Fine, ignore the medical advice of the medical student then…", he muttered sassily, straightening his back.

"What else is there?", Minho asked, tone slightly sour. Was he angry at Jisung? At Chan? At both of them? Whatever. Let him act childishly. Jisung was not going to go to the hospital, period.

"Nothing", the younger answered, trying to give his own voice the same feeling of finality and blatantly failing. Damn it.

It seemed to have convinced the pouting doctor in training because he nodded and was about to turn away when a voice from behind Jisung's back intercepted.

"You know that's not true, Jisung. Why are you lying?"

His tone was serious, matter-of-factly. Bang Chan had caught him lying.

"The others don't need to be looked at", Jisung uttered through gritted teeth, suddenly very angry. Who was Chan to defend him and turn around on his word in a matter of seconds? 

"Jisungie." Bang Chan had definitely noticed his anger (good) and used a softer voice now, making Jisung turn his head toward him at the pet name.

"I can't say for sure why you don't want to see a doctor but I know that we can't force you to do anything you don't want to do", Chan's face was carefully neutral as he paused for a moment, but his eyes shone with a warm emotion Jisung couldn't fully place, "I still think you should show someone your injuries, even if they're only minor."As Jisung's face grimaced into an expression of disgruntlement, Chan quickly went on: "I know you don't trust us yet but we can only help you with the pain if you show us."

True. Jisung had no choice but to agree. Still. 

"Look, some of them are minor and they don't need to be taken care of, like my hands, they're just a few frostbites", the youngest raised his hands and showed them to Chan who didn't really react as his gaze wandered over the various cuts and cracks and discolourments. 

"And some… Well…", Jisung lowered his hands again, trailing off in search of words, "Some of them are… Quite… Bad", he ended anticlimactically, lowering his gaze downwards towards his fiddling hands in his lap again.

After a few moments of quietness, a warm hand suddenly covered his. Jisung flinched again (Could he finally stop fucking doing this every time someone touched him?) but Chan didn't pull back.

"Let us hyungs look at it, yeah? We'll judge how bad they are", he whispered encouragingly. 

Jisung sighed. He was too tired to keep fighting. Fine, let them see. Whatever. 

"Stomach or feet?", he asked, watching Minho move next to Chan in his peripheral vision.

"Stomach, I guess?", Minho was clearly confused by the question.

Without a word or sound or unnecessary movement, Jisung straightened his back slightly, opened his jacket and lifted the shirt underneath.

Chan and Minho immediately sucked in a deep breath, Minho's hand flying over his mouth, Chan's face getting paler by the second.

"Oh my god-"

"Jisung, what the- Who the fuck…?"

The homeless kid finally decided to look down.

"Ah god damn it, those fuckers", Jisung scoffed.

There was a big 'K' in the middle of what looked like a sun on his stomach. A gang sign. There was a giant gang sign burned on his stomach. What a life.

"Who-who did that?", Minho seemed to be faster in regaining his composure, Chan still hadn't closed his mouth.

"Some gang that starts with", he checked the letter again, "'K', apparently. Don't know their name but they usually walk around with that symbol on their jacket."

The older boys kept staring at him. Uncomfortable with the silence, Jisung continued on.

"I hadn't checked it yet, you know, I was aware that it was bigger and uglier than the wound on my cheek, but like, I didn't think that jerk actually put their ugly gang sign on me. I mean, a 'K' in a sun? How uncreative can you get?", he rambled on, trying to take the edge off the situation. He couldn't take any more angst. Jisung hadn't noticed the way he had started shaking more and more until the shirt slipped from his hand.

"Jisungie-", Chan started, stretching out his hand to comfort him, pity and shock clear in his eyes.  
"Feet", Minho said, voice weirdly neutral, "Show us your feet."

Chan turned over to the older boy, opening his mouth to protest but Jisung complied before he could start.  
Jisung felt so numb as he was pulling his socks off. He knew it was horrible. Obviously. But he was used to it, in a way, to bigger wounds at least. It was sad. Very sad.

He didn't look at their faces when he revealed his feet to them.

Minho immediately knelt down, raising his hands to grab and touch and probe his feet but stopped in mid-air. Chan released a choked gasp into the tense air.

Jisung knew what they saw but he followed their gaze anyway. His toes were pitch-black. Completely fucked up. All of them. He concentrated on the line that separated them from the pale, normal looking skin.

"How-How", Minho's hands were shaking as bad as his voice, "How long have-have they... been this way?"

The homeless boy swallowed. 'Last Christmas' was lying on his tongue but it was a depressing fact. "A while", he muttered instead. His voice was shaking. Everything was shaking. Everything was hurting. His toes were numb.

Suddenly, Bang Chan jumped up and ran out of the room. The two remaining boys flinched but remained frozen, staring straight ahead.

A door crashed open and violent retching noises sounded through the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // tw: reference to a panic attack, bad wounds (not explicitly described)
> 
> ye guys I don't know what to tell you  
> When I started this fic I thought it was gonna be fluffy by like chapter 4  
> and now this  
> The research for this chapter was awful, I don't think I'll get some of the images out of my head again  
> But the worst thing about it was that those wounds are realistic for a homeless person to have and I feel so, so bad for the homeless people, it's horrifying  
> Ooooff well at least it's the longest chapter yet, hope it was worth the wait  
> Penny for your thoughts? You guys don't know how happy you make me when you comment <3
> 
> Anyway, just gonna drop this here and now I'm gonna go out and drink to forget


	9. Tomorrow Comes Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The coldness of the floor was slowly seeping into his skin, his bare hands freezing as they rested on the asphalt.
> 
> He balled them into a fist.

The retching was disgusting, ringing through the apartment, ringing in Jisung's ears.

He hated it. Chan was feeling bad. He was feeling bad because of him.

The guilt gripping his heart wasn't really a new experience for him.

"Jisung", Minho whispered, still kneeling on the floor. It was such a soft sound but it still made Jisung flinch.

He decided not to answer. 

Minho shifted to get up. Jisung really hoped he was going after Chan because someone should really do that.

But Minho was just standing there, staring down at Jisung with pity burning in his eyes. He hated it. 

So he looked away, staring at the walls, Chan still heaving in the near distance.

He slowly pulled on his shirt again, putting his socks back on.

The kitchen was small. So tiny. He was suffocating.

"I want to get my things", Jisung muttered mechanically.

Out of his peripheral vision, he witnessed Minho's head shooting up in surprise.

"N-Now?"

"Yes."

Jisung wanted out, he needed to get out. He was too tired to really panic, which was an interesting fact in itself, because it left him so calm, pondering his lone goal.

"I don't think this is a good idea", Minho said, obviously trying to keep his voice controlled and calm but Jisung definitely heard the slight tremor.

The younger knew that he needed to tread carefully now, that he needed to strategize, make things believable. He didn't want their help anymore. Some things were better left unsaid, undiscovered, ignored until all eternity. 

Jisung's toes for example, or the cruelty needed for a human to burn a logo into another human's body. Jisung himself was an example.

Both boys kept quiet, staring at everything that wasn't each other. There were voices coming from the bathroom now. The toilet flushed as Jisung recognized the people talking to be Chan and Changbin. Great, someone had checked up on him.

"It's my stuff. I can't just…", Jisung tried not to hesitate too much. He hated lying to people, well-meaning people at least, "If I'm going to stay here, I want it with me."

Minho's eyebrows shot downwards. 

Jisung slowly turned towards him, willing a small, trembling smile on his face.

The older boy hesitated, swallowing before opening his mouth to respond. Then he was interrupted by Changbin entering the kitchen. He stopped to lean on the counter, letting his gaze wander over the two dumbstruck boys. 

Changbin crossed his arms before speaking out: "Alright, does anyone want to explain to me what just happened here?"

Chan chose this moment to enter the room, still looking a bit green around his nose and dragging a hand through already messed up hair.

Three pairs of eyes were on Jisung.

Jisung's eyes moved up to the clock on the wall.

It was way too late for this shit. 

He closed his eyes slowly, relinquishing to the headache spreading from his neck to the top of his skull for a few moments. This sucks. 

"I'm going to go and get my stuff."

Chan sat down on one of the benches, hands now running over his face as well, rubbing his temples now.

"Yeah…", his voice was air-thin and a bit raspy as he uttered the words into the tense air, "Yeah. Let's get it tomorrow, 'kay?"

"I don't want to leave it out too long."

His hyung looked up at Jisung then, eyes full of barely concealed sadness and pain.

"I'm so sorry, Jisung."   
As the younger scoffed slightly, he quickly continued on: "But I don't think I can still go out tonight. We're going first thing tomorrow."

Jisung stood up slowly, putting his weight completely on his good foot to seem more steady. Minho's arms still flinched, as if on reflex.

"I wouldn't make you go anyway, it's way too late for that."

Jisung tried for another smile, stepping towards Chan a bit, coincidentally nearing himself to the exit.

"I know my way around. I'll be back before morning, you'll see!", he put all the warmth available into his voice, pushing his shoulders back slightly and opening his eyes a bit wider. Confident and trustworthy.

Chan's head immediately fell towards the table, hands cradling his skull lightly.

Jisung recoiled a bit, shoulders falling slightly. 

Then he heard a scoff from behind him.

"Dude", Changbin exclaimed in his slightly nasally voice, gazing from face to face still clearly confused, "What the fuck?"

"I… Uhm…", Jisung's right hand flew to his nape. His head really hurt.

Minho stepped up to him, brows furrowed.

“As if we’d let you go alone after the things we’ve seen.”

Jisung was fidgeting slightly, taking a step closer to the door by instinct.

Changbin laid his head to the side, staring at Chan while speaking: “How about Minho and me escort you? Would that be okay?”

Jisung wasn’t even sure if the question was directed at him so he just sighed and muttered a small “whatever”.

Just minutes later he found himself in the hallway, standing around a bit awkwardly, stare completely blank as his personal bodyguards put on their shoes and jackets next to him. Chan stepped out of the kitchen then, directing his heavy, exhausted gaze to Jisung upper body.

When Chan suddenly walked towards him, without taking his dark eyes off the younger boy, Jisung involuntarily recoiled slightly, shoulders still slumped. His hyung noticed and gave him a smile. It took Jisung’s breath away for a second - there was so much vulnerability in that gaze.

He was so stunned that he only noticed the older had wrapped him in a too big winter jacket when he was already pulling up the zipper. 

It warmed Jisung’s heart how the other tried his best not to touch him. How crazy. 

This boy was so soft and nice and positive. He just put himself out there and hoped nobody would take advantage of him. Jisung hoped nobody would take advantage of him.

The homeless boy slowly closed his eyes, his face falling. 

Yeah, you’re taking advantage of him. Good job.

His mind was made up.

“Thank you”, he muttered. The corners of his mouth pulled up automatically as he opened his eyes, smile as genuine as it had ever been.

Then he was whisked out into the staircase, down a flight of stairs. He hadn’t said goodbye to Chan. 

The dark night swallowed the three of them up. Changbin immediately put on his hood, burying his hands in the pockets of his sweats. 

“Where do we need to go?”, Minho asked from next to him. 

“Where are we?”, Jisung replied, trying to make out points he recognised in the dark.

Changbin shifted, pulling out a cellphone.

Fascinated, the youngest of the trio watched him operate it, tapping around on it.

A little laugh broke the silence and made him look up. Minho had made the sound while Changbin was grinning down at his phone. 

Jisung blushed crimson when he realized they were laughing about his ignorance.

Before he could ponder it further, the small device was held out to him, a map displayed with a little dot on it.

He stared at it for a few seconds, gears turning to find out where they had to head.

“The small dot is our current-“, Changbin started, grin still on his face, tone slightly patronising.

“I know that”, Jisung snapped to interrupt him.

He looked around, ignoring the other two’s shocked expressions, and just walked on into a smaller street on their right.

For a while, they kept on walking like this - Jisung leading the way silently while listening to the others’ footsteps. They had begun talking among themselves a few minutes after his outbreak, in hushed whispers, as if trying not to annoy him again.

Jisung’s headache crept up further.

They hadn’t deserved this reaction. He knew it, they knew it, his sunken heart knew it. He bit his lip and continued on walking. 

As they were nearing the bigger street he had first met Chan (what a nice way to describe that), his feet slowly started to drag, his eyelids drooping with every step.

Suddenly Jisung stumbled, feet losing contact with the ground. 

The weirdest thing was, as he was falling, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Before his head could hit the asphalt, steady hands gripped his armpits, breaking the fall.

It took a moment for Jisung to notice that no, he was not lying in a puddle on the sidewalk and yes, there were hands on him, gripping him tightly, not letting go-

With a surprisingly fast move he ripped his whole body forward, falling onto his knees on the asphalt. Ouch.

Minho gave a very unmanly shriek, landing on his butt as the momentum drove him back.

Jisung stared at him, eyes wide open, only noticing he wasn’t blinking when he noticed tears gathering.

Minho stared back, expression unreadable. Then he slowly lifted his hands up, like he was staring down a wild animal.

Jisung felt like a wild animal.

“Calm down”, the older whispered, barely loud enough for the other to hear.

Great idea. Jisung wanted to laugh but he couldn’t, his lungs were burning and oh, he was hyperventilating-

“Okay, we got it. No joking, no touching”, Changbin scoffed, standing behind Minho, arms crossed. His mimic was definitely the one of a very annoyed man.

Jisung willed down the feeling of intense fear, swallowing, trying to replace it with anger. Anger was an easy emotion.

“Sorry that I don’t like to be held down”, he seethed through gritted teeth, voice airy, “And sorry that I’m not up to fucking joking around.”

Minho’s eyebrows shot down fast.

“Look, man, we’re no experts. We’re walking around with you, a guy we don’t even know, god-knows-where at too-late-o’clock. We’re not doing this shit for fun!”, the oldest replied, raising his voice more and more.

“We’re just trying to help you”, Changbin tried, nasal voice back to neutral as if he didn’t really care.

“Exactly!”, Minho snapped, slowly getting up, “Dude, I don’t think you know in how much shit you’re in. I don’t even know how you’re standing on those fucking feet, they’re so messed up.”

“You think I don’t know that?”, Jisung retorted weakly, the back of his head pounding wildly, blood rushing through his ears, “But maybe I don’t want your fucking help. You don’t understand anything!”

He didn’t either. He really didn’t understand. What was happening again? His vision was spinning, hands clutching the winter jacket. As he was staring up at the other he really felt like the wild animal they all saw.

When his gaze settled on Minho’s face, Jisung knew what was coming. It was that angry face, the expression someone made when they weren’t really thinking, when they just wanted to hurt the other.

“Awesome, because we don’t want to help you either. We’re just doing this for Chan. You have fucking problems that can’t be solved by some overworked uni students.”

Jisung wasn’t even surprised. He had known that. Minho had every reason to be mad.

The coldness of the floor was slowly seeping into his skin, his bare hands freezing as they rested on the asphalt.

He balled them into a fist.

Then Jisung jumped up onto his feet, steadying himself only for a few rushed heartbeats while he was staring at the floor.

Then he turned and ran into the next alleyway.

He hadn’t said goodbye to Chan, he thought as his lungs protested, pain in his stomach making him gasp out every second breath while he was running down the dirty streets.

He hadn’t said goodbye to Chan, he thought as tears gathered in his eyes.

No goodbye meant no hello again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I really fucking hate this chapter lol  
> I’m genuinely sorry about not updating. I’m graduating this year so life is really stressful and I got physically ill a month ago and I can tell you nothing’s really fun when you’re constantly in pain and nauseous so I didn’t really want to write. Right now I’m on a long bus journey so I wrote this out.  
> Title comes from the song by Gorillaz.  
> Hope I could make you feel the exhaustion Jisung and me are feeling lol  
> I posted some happier stuff so maybe you want to take a look at that on my account.  
> Oh and if I take this long to update again, yell at me on twitter @sozhilu


	10. Glimpse of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shh, I got you, we can do this, I’m here.”  
> Jisung hadn’t even noticed he was crying until he felt a hand running over the back of his head soothingly, his tears dropping onto the denim of her padded jacket, so old and familiar that a sense of belonging and joy suddenly sparked in his guts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New character being introduced is an OC for the sake of the plot and my sanity. Just fyi.

It had been hours and Minho was still sitting at their lunch table, hands cradling his head, face down on the surface, hidden from view.

Chan sighed next to him for what felt like at least the hundredth time. Changbin was back, roaming through the kitchen, working the coffee machine, opening the fridge. 

They had tried everything to get his attention. In the far back of his mind, he knew that their efforts were quite sweet - even if undeserved and in vain.

He had fucked up. Majorly. Royally. Completely.

It was a well-known fact in their group that Minho had problems expressing his feelings. Once you know that it’s fine and you can think outside the box, try to see everything from his perspective and you will notice the actual, caring intentions he had for his actions.

A stranger, especially a young, injured, exhausted, hopeless boy who is quick to mistrust people would not do that though. He would just take his words as they are and try to find every bad intention he could have. 

Minho knew that. Chan had reminded him of it, back when Jisung had been occupying their bathroom. Yet he had let his temper get the better of him.

Chan had been enraged, obviously. They shouldn’t have wakened him - Chan did not sleep much, as his passion for music and overworking himself kept him awake, and he could have really used the rest. But something had told them that he would have never forgiven them that.

It was the sort of quiet anger, due to Felix sleeping (and being blissfully unaware) in the next room or Chan’s own exhaustion, Minho wasn’t sure. Or maybe it was because he had predicted, no, expected something like that to happen. Probably that.

While Changbin had been explaining the situation to Chan, Minho couldn’t get a word out.

He felt like he had failed.

Certainly, he had disappointed Chan and his parents who taught him about selflessness and patience and whatever divine being was watching over them and the guilt about it felt like an ice pick in his chest.

But he had definitely failed someone in danger, doomed without help and while he could live with the disappointment, he couldn’t live with that.

So he just laid there, with his face down, in their small, comfy kitchen.

——

“Hello?”

The boy flinched, instinctively curling together, putting his hands over his ears, pressing his eyes shut. He just wanted to disappear for a little while, wounds pulsing synchronized with his hasty breathing.

Please just go away, he begged into the nothingness, not really sure if he was speaking or just thinking, the difference wasn’t important anyway, nobody ever cared what he said anyway-

“Jisung?!”, footsteps came closer, light but urgent and suddenly there was a soft but warm hand on his cheek, angling his face up and he didn’t resist, recognizing the voice but it couldn’t be-

“Oh my god, it really is you!”

He opened his eyes but before Jisung could stare at the other person’s face, they disappeared from view as skinny arms wrapped in layers of clothing pulled him forward into an embrace.

He flinched, like always, but the girl connected to the arms didn’t even react and obviously  
Jisung was indulging, basically melting pliantly into the soft warmth suddenly surrounding him.

“Noona?”, he asked, voice scratchy and foreign because of his earlier shouting.

Yoona didn’t pull back, only nodded against his shoulder and curled delicate fingers into the fabric of the winter jacket he was still wearing.

“Shh, I got you, we can do this, I’m here.”  
Jisung hadn’t even noticed he was crying until he felt a hand running over the back of his head soothingly, his tears dropping onto the denim of her padded jacket, so old and familiar that a sense of belonging and joy suddenly sparked in his guts.

He pulled away, needing to see his old mentor, his best friend, the person he thought he had lost.

Yoona didn’t look good, but when did anyone he knew ever look good? Her face was a bit more sunk in since he saw her last and her hair was still as greasy but styled as usual, the brown locks bundled up into a fashionable but also practical bun on her head, some strands framing her face and making it seem even paler and leaner than it already was.

But there was a happy twinkle in her eyes and the corners of her mouth were definitely pulled up into the smile that was so familiar. He felt himself being pulled back into a flashback of a time when he was much younger, maybe not necessarily physically but emotionally, when he had latched himself onto an older girl, a bit cold towards him at first but warming up fast, the protector and saviour he had needed, someone who could tell him what to do.

To this day, he was sure he would have never survived the first month on the street without Yoona and he was eternally grateful for her. 

“Where have you been?!”, Jisung gasped, but there was no annoyance in his tone, only unconcealed excitement and he felt vulnerable but this was someone he trusted and he found himself minding less than he probably should.

Yoona rolled her eyes fondly, flicking his forehead gently. 

“Everywhere, you know. I was interrupted during a job, someone wanted- or well, demanded to be my pimp, so I had to lay low for quite a while”, she mustered his face for a few seconds, “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner.”

“It’s fine”, Jisung immediately said. And it was. He knew how it was, he knew because Yoona had taught him, if you can’t stay somewhere, then go. Simple.

“That’s my boy”, the older girl replied with a smug grin, ruffling his hair.

For a moment there was comfortable silence between them before Yoona broke it again.

“Are you still living in that abandoned building?”

Jisung only nodded, putting a strand of black hair behind his ear.

Yoona plucked a stray hair from her thick tights, then she pulled herself up, reaching out a hand towards the younger boy.

“Then let’s catch up, shall we?”

——

It was hard to get up, to leave his room, the day after the thing.  
That’s what he decided to call it. The thing.

The thing loomed over the whole flat, making the air feel heavy and weirdly tense, like the atmosphere before lightning strikes.

Everyone tried to act as if everything was normal as if the thing never happened, but it was obvious in the way they did everything mechanically, like running on auto-pilot, thoughts far away from the usual, now seemingly weirdly normal university student stuff.

Felix had fled their apartment as quickly as he could, leaving for his first class of the day a good hour earlier than usual. 

Minho really, really couldn’t blame him. Felix had slept through the whole thing, and while the older was definitely jealous of that fact, it must be fucked up to be suffocating in a room without detailed knowledge, being the only one basically out of the loop because even if Changbin told him some basic information it was hard to ever be able to understand the feeling of witnessing well, a thing like the thing.

Minho shivered in his chair, clutching the already cooling coffee in his hands.

Chan looked bad which wasn’t surprising at all but worrisome all the same. Even though the older was an impressively functional insomniac, he was still human and needed to sleep sometime.

Jisung was a human too, his mind thankfully provides, another stab of guilt piercing his chest. He needs to sleep too, he deserves a bed and not that crack in the wall.

Minho shakes his head to get rid of the negative thoughts. No use crying over spilled milk, he tries to joke in his thoughts but it was such a weak attempt because his mind managed to circle back all the time, fuck, Jisung probably would cry over spilled milk, it had a lot of nutritional value...

A soft sob tore him out of his thoughts, eyes shifting to Chan with his back towards him, leaning on his hands clutching the edge of the hotplates, body hunched and shaking a bit with the force of more sobs breaking free every few seconds.

Minho is on his feet before he consciously decides to do so, the stab wound in his stomach gaping wider with every heavy step he took towards the older boy.

He stood behind him, a bit awkwardly, not really a comforting presence.

Minho put a steady hand on Chan’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry”, he said, voice shaking.

“I know”, Chan said, and it was painfully obvious that it wasn’t more than an acknowledgment, the carefully neutral tone leaving no room for forgiveness.

——

They had gone to sleep first, so both of them had curled up in the soft pink blanket that fortunately hadn’t been stolen, huddled together, making the night seem way less cool.

The big catching up talk happened the next morning, two silhouettes sitting under a bridge in the surprisingly warm sunlight, munching on some croissants Yoona had gotten them from a supermarket from a big chain, using the money she kept stashed in a secret pocket of her denim jacket.

The older girl had started telling her experiences over the last few weeks, re-telling close calls and weird patrons as excitedly and vividly as if she was the main protagonist of a spy blockbuster.  
With her small hands gesturing and her eyes blown wide with exaggerated enthusiasm, Jisung even found himself chuckling along to some of her adventures.  
She proceeded to tell him about a homeless shelter she had visited a few days ago, praising the workers and showing off the black, wool tights and the thick dark red sweater they had given her for the winter.

“By the way Jisungie, where did you get that awesome winter jacket?”, Yoona said through a mouthful of food, hands pulling at the seam of the fabric on his arm.

Jisung’s mood sunk quickly. He sighed and stared down at the water, letting the hand clutching his croissant sink down from the bite he had wanted to take just a few moments ago.

Yoona immediately noticed. She wasn’t one to show her concern obviously but Jisung knew her well, he could pick up the signs of her worrying, the fleeting side-eye, the shifting in her jaw.

She didn’t say anything, acting after the principles she had taught him - Don’t nose around in other’s stuff, don’t press when asking questions and also don’t answer questions you’re not comfortable with. That's probably why she also hadn't asked about the ugly, discoloured wound on his cheeks or why he was limping. Principle before worry.

Jisung sighed again before shifting to lean back on his hands and started to tell his story, beginning with the wallet stealing incident.

He watched her reactions closely, reading her thoughts and feelings from the subtle signals she gave him.

One of the corners of her mouth twitched down as Jisung was recalling the circumstances of his first meeting with Chan, clearly disapproving of his clumsy methods and willingness to exchange information with a total stranger, scoffing obviously as he reveals that he had taken his new hyung to his sleeping place.

Her eye twitched in concern at the mentioning of his run-in with the gang members, a twinkle of pride decorating her gaze as he retells the way he had pulled himself back ‘home’ afterward, making a warm feeling spread in his guts.

“Atta boy!”, Yoona laughed out, “Like I told you. You need nobody but yourself. You can do it! On your own! Just go on like you've always have and you will get somewhere eventually.”

She was right, maybe, probably, but actually she wasn’t. It was so painfully obvious and ironic, his mentor, the person he depended on for years and who was still so greatly important to him, praising him for being independent. It felt wrong, he felt wrong.

That’s why he hesitated to tell her the rest of the story. Jisung wasn’t stupid, he knew he wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t for Chan’s help, for the place he could get a warm meal and shower in. It didn’t magically heal his problems, but he had been out of the cold and well fed and that worked wonders on tired bodies and minds like his.

So they sat there in silence, finishing up their food. Yoona didn’t press him again but still eyed the jacket in mild interest, survival instinct probably urging her to get to the bottom of his story and get a warm jacket like that for herself.

When they had managed to wolf down their breakfast, the usual winter clouds had started to appear, blocking the sun’s warm rays from meeting their skin.

Yoona excused herself quite soon, giving him a one-armed, very quick hug, hurrying to wherever she needed to be with the promise of meeting again soon.

——

Everyday life was a blessing.

It was a few weeks after the thing and their daily routine had mostly gone back to normal.

Chan was back to a healthier balance of not-sleeping and resting and the relationship between them lost their tension gradually. The older had not offered a verbal implicit message of forgiveness but his actions heavily implied that he wasn’t going to stay mad at Minho forever, that he kind of understood what went wrong during the thing.

So everything was great, everything was normal, the usual.

Still, and Minho never told anyone about this, the gaping hole in his stomach didn’t close, it had grown a bit smaller, until it was barely noticeable, what used to be guilty pain now only a low humming under his skin. 

It grew less painful but it never ceased to exist, reminding him of big dark eyes, the way they had smiled slightly and the way they had looked at him during the thing, so angry and disappointed and desperate and once Minho’s thoughts started to wander and then it was hard to reel them back in.

He didn’t know if the others were feeling the same way as they hadn’t talked about the thing or their feelings about the thing, not even once. But sometimes, all of a sudden, when he was eating, the food suddenly tasted like bland paper in his mouth because why was he even eating, he wasn’t even that hungry, just eating out of boredom, Jisung could have eaten that portion.

Or when Minho is walking downtown, he catches himself unconsciously looking around, staring into alleyways a little too long, looking at corners of streets he had never even noticed before. Jisung could be sitting there, somewhere, wonder what he’s doing right now, whether he’s okay or not. The weirdest thing is, Minho really didn’t know what he was supposed to do if he actually was to see him again.

Still, the world kept turning, his next university exam was getting closer and closer and Minho’s life continued on, so he did too.

——

They had fallen into some sort of daily routine.

The two of them came together at night, cuddling through the coldness of the winter still influencing their current climate. In the morning, they’d buy food from the money Yoona or Jisung made or stole it when it wasn’t enough and the growling of their stomach was enough motivation to do so. 

Then they went their separate ways, doing whatever and picking up jobs here and there to survive, only to meet again in the abandoned building.

The burn wounds cooled down to scars, his ankle healed more or less, only giving him troubles worth mentioning when the wind was especially strong.

It was great, it was fine. Yoona had become his anchor. She was so strong, his admiration and respect for her only growing by day. She was the epitome of 'survival instinct'. She kept him going, kept him warm at night.

He could do it. Maybe not on his own, but they could do it, their little team was all they needed. The offers of outside support almost completely wiped from his mind, only resurfacing when Jisung wandered the streets, sometimes unconsciously visiting main roads and looking out for dyed tips or a familiar face. He didn’t know what he’d even do if he should actually see the boys again - Apologize probably, and then? His life wasn’t great now, but it was fine, fine enough for him.

Well, it was fine until it wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is kind of a filler chapter, I'm sorry for only being able to give you that after not updating for two months. But! It is necessary for the plot. Yoona is a difficult character, her morals and actions are a bit complex, I'd say. It isn't my intention to have her appear as the ultimate savior, she's no Mary Sue, but Jisung worships her, she's like a mother figure to him so obviously, he'll be very optimistic about everything.  
> Just a quick information, things got worse before they got a little bit better, well, I mean, at least I graduated with a very good grade that exceeded all of my expectations which is an awesome feeling.  
> Now that I've graduated I also have a bit more time...? So let's hope I'll get lots of chapters out in the next few months.  
> Y'all can thank my weird mind who wouldn't let me sleep last night before I didn't write at least 4k words, so I already started working on Chapter 11. Yay! (now I'm running on two hours of sleep but whateva)  
> Anyways, there's more plot in the next chapter, so look forward to that (maybe not really tho lmao)  
> I feast upon your comments by the way. If you've come this far into my notes (does anyone even read these?) just drop like a one sentence comment with what you think or whatever and I'll love you forever!!  
> Peace Out  
> ZhiLu


	11. Lay Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mouth fell open automatically, irregular breathing painting little white clouds into the black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend listening to your fave sad song this chapter. Trigger warnings in the end notes

Jisung woke up shivering and alone. Spring was finally starting to crawl into the land but the nights were still as unforgiving as ever.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes until he saw stars, the blanket falling from his shoulders. 

Where’s Yoona?

She had gone to work yesterday - but she should have been back, she’s usually there in the morning. The sun started reaching into the abandoned construction site, lighting up the hallway outside of his little haven. 

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and got up, smoothing out his - no, Chan’s jacket. Chan. No, Yoona.

“Noona?”, Jisung called carefully, afraid of waking other occupants of the building.

A bad feeling rose up in his guts.  
He should go looking for her.

He expertly climbed down the old emergency stairs while pulling his woolen hat down, wrapping his arms around himself immediately after. 

Jisung knew where he was going, it wasn’t far at all, a known spot for people looking for a quick buck and clients with not that much money alike. Not that much money but enough to buy a body and soul for a few hours.

The alleyway was still rather dark. It was a narrow passage between another construction site and an actually occupied house, though it was all closed off with wooden planks. The only indicator for a living inhabitant were the signs stapled to the walls, telling others to “fuck off” and “stay away”. 

Jisung scoffed. He honestly wished he could stay away. Why was he doing this again? Yoona was probably fine.

Probably. Maybe. God damn it.

So Jisung stepped into the alleyway.

The pebbles were squeaking underneath his wet converse, digging painfully into his soles. He squinted his still tired eyes, trying to make it out if others were still stumbling around here, but not noticing anyone except a stray cat.

“Yoona?”, Jisung called out softly, his voice echoing back to him from the dirty walls.

His foot hit something solid, making him stumble on his journey through the dark. It was heavy and cold and soft. The cold crawled up his sides.

Jisung didn’t want to look down. He wanted to walk on, to search for Yoona, he needed to go- He knew he didn’t need to go on.

He turned his head downwards. He bend his knees. He kneeled next to the soft thing, the body, his hands finding the floor in front of him, between him and the bruised and dirty and pale flesh, between him and Yoona.

Yoona. It was Yoona.

The girl with the continence, with the brave warrior heart, with the “We can do it”.

It couldn’t be. Could it be?

His mouth fell open automatically, irregular breathing painting little white clouds into the black.

His eyes fixed on his hands, they were gripping the shoulder, of the body, of Yoona, it was Yoona’s shoulder and his discoloured fingers were digging in, but the flesh remained pale, it didn’t turn red, it was such a weird detail to notice but Jisung did notice and suddenly he noticed everything.

The way her top was ripped, her signature denim jacket nowhere to be seen, now how was it Yoona without her jacket, it couldn’t be. The way her neck wasn’t pale, it was dark and bruised and it looked like the traces of fingers, every single one could be traced, there was even some dried blood from where the fingernails had pierced the skin.

The colours ended there and gave away to a much too sharp jawline, sharp enough that she could have sliced her attacker’s fingers off if she wanted to, Jisung wanted to laugh, he wanted to joke and he wanted her to laugh and to joke with him because if her lips were moving they definitely wouldn’t be this blue, not this blue.

Her hair was tangled, spread out like an inappropriate halo, just like an angel, an epitome of innocence and love and in a way she was but also she was anything but, but it wasn’t her fault, it was never her fault. 

Jisung didn’t want to look further up, didn’t want to confirm his suspicions, he hadn’t moved for a while, fingers still painfully digging into soft white, painful for him, only for him, the cold had him frozen, Yoona was as cold as the ground, seeping into his dark fingertips, ripping a dark, glaring hole into his torso and he couldn’t breathe, but he was breathing way too much, way too fast-

His knees stopped holding him up, he fell sideways, ear pressed onto the concrete but there was nothing, no feeling, his skin, his limbs, his organs numb.

There was no feeling as he stared deep into dark, glazed over eyes.

Jisung felt like he was falling, which was impossible because there was nowhere to fall, the ground, this position he was in, was the lowest he could possibly go.

He wanted to stop breathing, he wanted the steady beating in his chest to be swallowed up by the black void currently eating at his lungs, it was so irrational but he didn’t dare to look down in fear of seeing nothing where his torso used to be.

He stared straight ahead into a different void instead, briefly wondering if it maybe was the same void. 

In the lifeless darkness he saw himself, his reflection staring back at him.

Suddenly he started trembling.

It started in his lips, then his upper body, his legs and instantly his hands were vibrating so bad he lost his grip, the limbs falling helplessly into the space left between him and Yoona, the body, the corpse. The space was so minimal, they were so close.

The trembling and the breathing was pathetic, his body desperately fighting, for what even, for what was it fighting, why were his lungs pushing air in and out, a steady cycle of inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, why was his body using every single muscle to keep him from freezing, to keep him from succumbing to the cold around him?

Something snapped inside him.

It was a reminder.

There wasn’t a lot of space between Yoona and him but she was dead and he was alive and no matter if he deserved what happened to her or if she deserved what was happening to him, it was the way it was, he was the only one producing small clouds of warm fog, standing out against the darkness, only him.

A sob tore itself from his lips as he shut his eyes closed, keeping himself from staring further into the void, from letting it in.

Jisung curled into himself, burying his face into what was left of her tank top, clutching her pliant fingers between his own. Some of them were broken. Their fingertips and their skin were a similar colour.

He had gotten it. The realisation had hit him like lightning, lighting up the ultimate truth, the last lesson he was going to learn from Yoona, the last thing she would teach him directly contradicting the first thing she had taught him.

You can’t do it. Not here, not now, not alone. You won’t survive this mess if you keep going like you’ve always have.

And fuck, he wanted to survive.

Here in this moment, he realised it more than ever.

Yoona had been disgraced, robbed of every bit of pride and dignity and worth she had kept like a light sheltered inside of her, the bastard had wrapped his hands around her neck, a small, battered, homeless prostitute’s neck, she was just trying to stay afloat, nothing else, and the guy had wrapped his hands around her neck and pressed down, ignoring her struggle and the way her skin turned blue and the way she was begging as long as she still could and then-

He didn’t even close her eyes. He just left.

He just left her like a piece of trash, discarded after use. 

Jisung didn’t want this.

He didn’t want this for her, he didn’t want this for anyone and he didn’t want this for himself.

But this was his future, this was the path he chose, the one he was steadily following as if it was okay in any way, as if the path would lead to salvation and not willingly and desperately into the arms of a person that was going to see him as only a mean, a way to experience some sort of sick pleasure, and then dumping his lifeless body away, to be forgotten the next day.

It was scary, terrifying, horrifying actually, the deep dark fear gripping his mind more coldly than any physical condition ever could.

He didn’t know if it was to late. Maybe the goal of his path was close, too close, but he could try, he was still breathing and trembling, he could try to turn around and run back to the last junction, make a different decision.

He didn’t know if it was too late, but he was going to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Major character death, description of an asphyxiated corpse
> 
> Hey guys it is I  
> Delivering this awful point in jisung’s life  
> I don’t want to say much more this chapter, hope y’all are doing okay <3


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